Swimming in the Lake of Light
Tie up my boat in the lake of light
I am going for a swim—
slipping into luminescence—
into the jade of morning so bright
it made the hands of the immortals
greasy with desire
until it slipped from their grasp
and fell to earth to become
the water of our lives.
So says a Chinese tale.
Icarus could have used some
of that begemmed water
to keep the wax of his wings
from melting as he flew
too close to the searing light
of the sun and so fell to earth
his own way.
Perhaps it is true, as a Czech tale
has it, that the sun daily exhausts
itself shining on our foolishness
and so needs to revive in the lap
of the dark mother of night.
(Perhaps even the sun
needs a chance to begin again.)
The sky must have been crowded
with all those comings and goings
as Raven shot heavenward
on his own mission to unbox the sun
and toss it up into the infinite night,
where it punched a hole
in the midnight fabric
of the possible—
so that we now open our eyes
on the light of morning
so intoxicating as to make
thieves of the gods.