Back when I was golden
and the cherry blossoms scented the air,
you and I went bubbling down the avenue
consciously oblivious to the world’s ills.

The myth had it backwards.
You were the first to speak,
and I the first to listen…
or so it seemed at the dawn of time.

You told me to look clearly at the trees.
Their vibrancy was the opening shot of our movie.
I trained my ears more closely to the dialogue –
whether or not such ideas could be stated right.

In chaos’s miasma, I’d never felt such passion
as that which emanated from your mind.
I’d tasted the fruits before existence,
before I’d ever even possessed my body,

which was nothing compared to you possessing me,
and the greatest trick of all was just the truth.
Tonight, I stare again at the darkness,
grateful to have held a halo to my heart once in this existence.

From Michael Anthony Adams, Jr.’s collection of poetry, Indigo Glow, available here.