The Summoner                                                                William Scott Bayha

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I Felt

The Penetratingly

Intense Presence  

of Your Absence

A Palpable

Something Missing

Voiceless

Your Spirit Whispered:

"SOUL is MORE Material

Than  

Sense"

Gravity isn't as Heavy

As the Vacuum

of This

Without-You-Ness

The Air

Is Less Dense

Grief is

More Intimate Than

Kissing

The Furniture is Different

The Light is Different

Time is Different

I AM Different

Since You Left

What Remains is  

A Tangible Void

A Visceral

Pretense

What Can Only Be

Said to Be

The Full Weight of  

Emptiness

Your Adagio has Slowed

Your Adagio has Slowed

Your Adagio has Slowed

Your Adagio has Ended

To the Summoner

You Have Been

Summarily

Commended

Your Strength

Astounded Me

You Were a Lion

For So Many Years

Forever Fierce!

Even in Your Antiquity

I Saw You

Bowed

But Never Bent

You Gave EVERYTHING

And Paid your LIFE

as Rent

You Remained So Calm

And Without Fear

Even as You Birthed

Your Own Death

Now Your New Life is

Jet!

You are STILL

Extant

AND Have Survived

the Breath

Only to Disappear

Into

The House of  

No-thing

In The Faraway

Near

Your Soul Contract

Is Now  

Complete

You Have Wings

For  

Feet

Your Debts

Both Judge

and Lender

Have Forgiven

Your Circle

Has Been Met

From This  

Temporary Frequency

Your Tether

Has Been

Riven

Thus Redacted

From

Attachment's

Exaction

Your Star's

Magnitude

Your LIGHT

Shall Never  

Relent!

Your LOVE

Was a Tithe

It only Multiplied

By One Thousand Times

One Thousand

What it Ever Spent.

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WSB  10.20.23 

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Good Friday 2024                                                         William Scott Bayha

 

The Cardinal hues

of crimson roses lilacs, hyacinth, and tulips

ALL Breathe with the Promise

our Re-birth proposes

Fertility is not

what Sex supposes

I am Darkness

She is Everything

the Light exposes

Death…to Easter succumbs

She rolls away my Stone

“Lazarus” she says “

Let’s leave here before

it gets too familiar…

and the habit comes.”

She waits for me  

in a Patience unfathomable

Her LOVE is the impossible

Imaginable!

She is the roots

I am the tree

I am divided

She is All my Sums

and in all my sins confided

I will frond again

The Soul will  

gain the Man

After a such a winter

as only what never dies in us  

Returns and Can. 

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WSB 5.17.24