light strikes a deal with each coming night

write what you know
of the colors in the autumn leaves;
of the comfort in your favorite old faded sweatshirt
of the momentary release and fulfillment in a warm embrace;
of the being struck to the bone, and electrified throughin you in a moment’s grace
              a beautiful phrase;
              a lifting gust of wind
              the true glacial blue of a stranger’s eyes catching your own;
              melodic sounds drifting through the opened window from the oboe player four doors down
write of the view at night from the second floor deck of your home on the coast
                  the sound of the waves–constant; 
                  with no consideration for time,
                  for rush,
                  for heart break or joy,
                  life or death.
       the ocean which knows no transience–which knows no movement but the coming and going of the tides.
write what you know: that nothing so certain can be human.  nothing so permanent and unchanging, or even predictable.

"Life–as we know it–is so transient."