“Absence” by Eamon Thomasson

Can one express with accented quarter notes
twilight reflected in brass and strings
in the same way the sunrise reminds the sidewalk
of its loneliness?

If I were to articulate to you the dance of the spirits,
you would dance a different dance,
guided by them in a new way.
If I were to envision you there,
I would not be envisioning you.
To try to understand the corralled innocence of your absence
Is to cleanse yourself of all the patterns that shaped and dotted the garden of your past.

These interactions were manufactured as temples to unknown gods,
libations for a future occasion which will not take place

To the untrained ear,
the chord is dissonant, but to the master,
it reflects wholeness.
Cracked fibers will keep the collection together.
One by one, the disintegration of momentary sculptures of sand.