The Presence at Night

The Presence at Night

Standing naked on my balcony at 4am. No bird song or fox call. Not a leaf moving. Nothing here but a mysterious presence.

You may not understand my attempt to write it but nor do I. It was a dance I could make so I made it. The ‘me’ and ‘I’ are not Tony Hawkins but something like that presence.

Presence on a warm Spring night during Lockdown.

Let me reach to the bottom of your heart. Here it is. And in any moment In any place in any thing it is present. What is present? A thing? The light on the dark street? The tree past which it shines? The cars? Their multiple shadows? Or simply the night? When the day world of man and his consciousness are gone. When they are sleeping. A little of that, I think.

Men invented God to account for this. They may have been right but I think it was the stage at which they were living. When they needed, or had inflicted upon them, kings. Now we have the Internet, a brief period in which there was no king. A precursor to another sort of world where every leaf, every light has its own centrality. 

A god of this isn’t one step away but orders of magnitude or very here. A practical god who creates the infinite scene but leaves you free to see what you make of it. To be what you make of it. 

Make me. Make me beautiful, if you can. And if you can’t, be with me. I am the great catchment for lost souls. There you may find a key, a presence. And you may pick yourself up and start to make again. 

Make you, make me, anyway you can but we tend to beauty. It is easily known, although there are levels and layers and in the age of abuses there are traps. Whole vast industries built upon traps and trapped beings. 

Even here there is another side to me. I can walk out of the night and touch your core. In every moment there is a beginning. All of me as I would be if we could reach the full balance of what we are and can be and already are and always are in a situation that is like eternity though no one knows or needs to know though we always know. 

This dance. The stillness. The presence. A quest for beauty. Both the seeing in what is and the making. Don’t be surprised by this in a universe built on such beautiful foundations as time and space and quantum indeterminacy and Fibonacci’s dizzying spiral. 

It all goes wrong. But are you sure? That there is not always a level of discovery, of creation? Take us two together. You who know nothing and I who am nothing. Nothing and everything. This way I cannot get in your way. You who are master of this moment and this universe. I bow to you, all of me, here.

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