Our Crystal Palace
by Notty Bumbo, 2015
This is the story of how one touches,
Of our moist skin after rain,
The room wherein we dwell.
This is the rendering of desire
Beneath the roof of the world,
The palace in which love unfolds,
The tree where the bluebird perches,
Spilling over with joy unburdened.
This is the journey of marble
Under the pressures of gravity and time,
The pauses for the traveler
Along the perilous mountain pass,
Sheltering from storms of want.
This is the random memory of a redwood,
Charlemagne without his armor,
The twin moons of Mars singing dirges for eternity.
This is the manner in which swans
Pay respects to their lost reflections,
The list of winners for every War of Flowers.
This is the year of the year we leave behind,
The day of the day of our dreaming,
When children want only new honey,
Offer only ancient songs to the morning.
This is the compact struck with gods unnamed,
The solution to the riddle of fire and the cosmos,
The small spites of entropy.
This is where we met,
Where the decades unwound their tender surprises,
Where loss and grief danced on our eyes,
Where we buried the crystal moments we could not forget.
This is where countless glasses were raised to the night,
Where the unquenchable light gathered around our feet,
And offered us the perfect rose
In exchange for our imperfect lives.