EARLY MORNING TABLEAU
This house, this room, this bed,
this narrow window wide enough
to hold an early morning tableau:
first, a radiant light slowly climbs
the tallest tree like a barefoot boy,
then pauses briefly on the top, a tiara,
before it becomes a kite akindle,
bright star above the stable
where Christ was born,
or was it Mithras?
I’ll take the one who took
two thousand years to surface in Egypt
the one who said to Thomas ,
“Who drinks from my mouth
will become as I am;
I myself will become he,
and the things that are hidden
will be revealed to him.”
(Borrowed from Buddha
a leaf of enlightenment?)
Revealed but not shared
since language is limited,
and knocking the “in” off of “infinite”
reduces one to splashing
in the kiddie pool of communication.
But back to our tableau
where the morning star is joined
by a decrescent moon,
slender slice of cantaloupe,
toy boat afloat
on the Sea of Galilee .
And now here comes the sun,
all lesser lights extinguished,
the moon a memory,
the star a scar on the imagination.
To protect your eyes,
turn your back to the sun
and discover the secrets
of your own shadow.
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