LaraShari

A chill met my skin
light, cold as ice,
blue and white over the horizon,
breaks apart the heavy clouds of night
while his shadow sneaks away down the mountain sides.
I hear silence,
unformed and unfilled
the sound of breath before breathing
before breath begins
an exhalation pauses eternally
and the echo of aulos remembers itself
its primordial form ringing in the hills
in emptiness
in unbeing.
there are no words for apollo to form
no meaning to misconstrue
while meaning defines itself,
ballads left unstrung across his lyre.

Adam is unmade in the void of breath,
having been made yet never was
so Eve was never taken from him-
She is eternally free,
breathing freely the breath of life
I watch myself cross a path to the water below
waiting at the cabin by the lake
thinking I might find company, perhaps Thoreau,
but he is gone and I only find myself alone
pouring over stones in the graveyard
seeking my ancestry-
as if names might allow me to see their faces.
Better to watch my reflection in the river
although its infinite parts
are constantly changing
they are still together-
the girl who met the stranger there,
their wedding day,
and thought that they were separate-
I am another-
until she touched her face,
then, seeing she was the same as her reflection,
disappeared upon the instant that she saw and was.

Here was the snake in the grass and tree
in the distance the drone of shakuhachi
a lone monk meditating infinitely
into the root of sound
knowledge and meaning
consciousness of flesh
what it is to see
means also being-
ask Euridice when she has left for the last embrace of darkness.
There we know the void again
before it is filled with light
and the light pulled apart from darkness
where before they were one.

That must have been what it was like
to see her face
turning back on the threshold of Thrace
where he could see on one side, earth,
and the other, endless night,
then singing forever even as his head went rolling
there was still the sound
the music perpetuating itself from the sheer force of passion
that made unbeing into being
breathed life
just as it took it away.

Still today I hear it
babbling in the water of the river
sound of thunder and rain
the monk in the distance
echo in the hills
sound of Medusa’s scream-
Athena fell in love,
and her flute still breathing

I remember I left some place
closed and dark
a room with biting air
filled with possibilities
there was context and reality
and myths that were more than myths
but simply were, whether they were or not.
I stepped back, across the void,
the river, graveyard, lake,
the state of indeterminacy
the stillness of searching-
but the sound came with me and I cannot escape
the sound of silence
water, thunder, Styx, and Thrace.
beauty made into being
our wedding day