Difference between revisions of "November"

You speak their language, the tongue with no words,
The concepts undiscovered, the names unspoken.
You are the ice that burns, the warmth that is cool
On the hottest of days.
You are the rainbow, a bridge between planes,
A luminous spectrum of intent.
As light, meaning, and language are ever-changing,
So are your appearance and your ideas,
Your blood and your definition.

You are trickery and enlightenment,
Sacrifice and self-awareness;
You are colour, which is all of these.
You are the good of the many over the one,
And the protection of the one.
You are the kindnesses which cut
And the trap door under the hearth rug.
You are cherry cola with a thesaurus
And the laughter of a child with shoes that light up.
You are she who knows flesh and material reality are mutable.

You who are efracted through every facet and every shard.
In this place, hidden and secret or brimming with change,
I sing your name, November an Nua,
You who are snowdrops and petrichor, of hoarfrost and first melt.
In this place touched by light and darkness,
I sing your name, November an Nua,
You who are the bright new green of spring and the myriad autumn leaves.

You who are the surface and the depth, who reflects and hides, who clarifies and reveals.
In this place of beauty both natural and made by artifice,
I sing your name, November an Nua,
The hidden thought behind the shining word,
Who enlightens through obscurity and deception,
Who provides paths to learning and discovery.

I bring the fruits of labor done with the thought of you.
I have built impermanence beside that which lasts
I have brought the ancient beside the ever new
I have placed focus before illumination
That those who seek knowledge have the opportunity to find it
In a different light.

For the end of one story is the potential for beginning.
I have found seeds beside the road,
Carried by wind or creature or hand or vehicle,
Unknown distances from their origins,
And I have planted them in a garden
Just to see what grows.

And found the secret that she did not live to tell to child or grandchild,
And I have followed the instructions written therein
And brought you cupcakes from the past
Made fresh by my hand.
I bring you silence in a meadow,
I bring you coffee in the morning.
I bring you the sunrise I beheld on my anniversary,
The constellations on the night of the oldest human's death,
And the weather on the morning of the youngest human's birth.

I bring you photographs of Sumerian cullet at the museum,
Shown from myriad angles and in different lights,
Displaying every color by the perfection of its imperfections.
Whatever I bring you, it is gathered or made or remembered
In your name and solely for you, as my intent is to earn your smile.
I bring you red velvet cupcakes, November an Nua,
And I sing your name,
For you are the hidden truth behind the veil.