Inaugural Dream

I wish Obama and company had chosen Jay Wright to be the inaugural poet.

Transcendent Night      by Jay Wright

Your feather hands

are love's nest in winter,

and yet I fly,

or do I dream I fly.

And I would fly

to nestle near your child's lake,

to press my needs upon your feather hands.

There at the lake,

in the shadow of the celt

I find there,

I dance in your spine's darkness

and in your body's darkness.

I awake to the light of your spirit's darkness.

I keep, for my constant spring,

your feather hands upon my eyes.

My eyes will always take

the dark path to your heart.

My heart will drink its light

from the only heavy hands

                         you offer me.

Death of the dark.  Death of the Light.

I live in my spirit's web of love's

                    transcendent night.