holy living rooms (moon gifts)

some nights, just after the dusk has tag-teamed the mercury drop
i'll wait for the moon with my carving tools
as she sheets the living room with her linen,
devoid of intention
and pregnant with nothing's everything

i'll transform as I cut everything I can see from the moonlight
stars and boats and crowns and trees and
impossible geometries sired from light and imagination

with each cut the curtains of light open themselves to the space I've created;
tattoo my body with shadow's-naught
and litter the room with my shapes,
an artisan's warzone

the light is my marble, waiting to birth visions
and heal over the holes with light's infinity
leaving me to cajole and cut and laugh
until dawn takes back the gift of the
some nights that I wish could be
every nights

finally, sleep, as I remember that that perfection is gifted, not made ~
and that I was just presence-d
the light of grace, held by
the grace of light
in this unusually holy living room