The choice to sit
in the heat of noontime
under the volcano of love,
as wet beads of fear sweat
slide down your neck
onto the road dusted
with puddles of oil
and orange scent
can be made in a flash
of lightning
or like a slow turpid jaunt
towards a blue lake,
full of glistening fish
and slippery memories
of breath all aswim---
as we hike in bright sun
up to a crater,
where nothing and all
gratefully mingle
amidst the crazed cracking
of noise, fierce fury’s
compassionate rim….
….Slowly it dawns on the leader,
that we all live down and inside
a purplish cacophonous din,
where peace and her sweet
sister beauty are gems hidden
precious as twins.
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