Afterglow Poem by Vernon Adrian Emuang

It went that way.

It did - the way a spring begins.

Softly breaking through
the earth, unassuming and gentle, as
it finds the path of least
resistance, the spring becomes a brook.

I feel a current building
Slow. Sure.

Is it merely the lay of the land?
That defines our journey.

No, but the physics of existence
plays its part in our cosmic encounter.
We pass under bridges,
and through valleys where
the sun cannot touch.

A prologue is never long enough
for the climax avoids its reach.

But humbled by the force

We tumble, then flow - along.
What should feel clumsy instead feels
graceful.

Even in its staccato rhythm, the lines
of our tango curve and curl
into each other.

I remember my lap against your rock
without losing momentum.

Counterpoints merge until all
that is heard is a single sigh.
Peaks dovetail into troughs.

The sigh becomes a birthing cry.
The beautiful irony
coaxes our hearts
to laugh

As the open sea beckons.