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I pause by this night window,
holding the reflection of us both,
watching the moon climb a slow arc
over the horizonís soft shoulder
and mark the depth of darkness
in this quiet room, filled with leaving...
a space almost empty.
The rise and fall of your gentle breast in sleep,
measures its own time, far across vast oceans,
in a foreign land,
breathing the unfamiliar air
of waning innocence;
Where did you go?
I hear hesitant footsteps, but canít tell
if they are coming
and I, a starsailor,
in my moonboat adrift, explore
the startling possiblities; I can only guess
the why and where and when
your journey began. I am left,
(a moon not eclipsed)
with one small star, (so lost)
but that star is most certainly fixed at north,
at the pivoting center of my universe.
I navigate the long way home,
leaving in my wakening,
a trail of pale moonlight
for you to follow.
I wonder why the sea reaches out for land,
always seeking the solid comfort of its embrace
only to fall back, return, fall back again,
(so you to me)
I tell you...
It is not the sea which drowns us,
not the strange land that overwhelms,
nor the blinding of a moon too bright---
it is the turning of the mind,
a closing of the heart--
the hand that remains still
at a sad and angry hipbone.
Take hold of my outstretched hand, surround me
with the light of your homecoming.
Let it sing your name back to me
in an echoing refrain. Even across the vast distance,
its sound will strike my waiting heart
and return to you
twice and again as many times as you cry out
in the mid of night.
Overwhelm me with the beautiful noise
and in its glory, you will become
wholly light once more. Shine,
in defiance of the dark depths
Sing out loud and never waver.
Teach me your words, your music
and my voice will harmonize.
With resonating vibrations,
we will shatter the mountains
of that terrible new land into the sea,
their immensity will diminish,
so that no darkness can ever claim
its victory final.
Allow me to be your beacon, your sound post,
your way home...
and I promise you...
your return will always be clear--
even on darkest night.
"I place these moments in my pocket
to be pulled
at the rush of noon,
the crush of three...
when tears come,
when words must learn to be enough..." MKL