Dark is a way and light is a place

I turned 35 yesterday, leaving (as Tripp so unkindly noted) the 25-34 year old demographic and in the process becoming less desirable to pretty much everyone. I considered attempting something profound about my advancing age but then remembered this poem from Dylan Thomas. Who needs my lackluster deep thoughts when his are so good?

As long as I'm posting poetry, my brother introduced me to Mark Strand a few years ago and I haven't been able to get this one out of my head since. Don't try to find a coherent theme to this post, just read the damned poem. You can thank me later.

What to Think of

Think of the jungle,
The green steam rising.

It is yours.
You are the prince of Paraguay.

Your minions kneel
Deep in the shade of giant leaves

While you drive by
Benevolent as gold.

They kiss the air
That moments before

Swept over your skin,
And rise only after you've passed.

Think of yourself, almost a god,
Your hair on fire,

The bellows of your heart pumping.
Think of the bats

Rushing out of their caves
Like a dark wind to greet you;

Of the vast nocturnal cities
Of lightning bugs

Floating down
From Minas Gerais;

Of the coral snakes;
Of the crimson birds

With emerald beaks;
Of the tons and tons of morpho butterflies

Filling the air
Like the cold confetti of paradise.