Your light came after the fact
way after, as in thousands of years after,
and I rose to your morning beauty
like a cleanup guy after the game,
bag over his shoulder, ratty ball cap,
picking up bits and pieces of a party
long over.
Your light, morning star,
just received, comes
like a package lost in the mail
meant for Christmas day
years ago.
What joy, and even more mystery,
comes to my eyes, my mind,
with this visit from the past, now.
I cannot go to where you were
or when you were there
but I can remember you now
after the fact.
vitalwholeness 