Evening Star

In the bright white light, the
concentrated light
of the first star, my
heart touched
as my feet walked
and my lungs breathed
the air here.

The walking was sore
in expansion, in limit
and the wounding came again
drawing the spine that
bit deep and drew
my life like a sting.

Wandering being returning
on your own arc, your
brilliant being, cold rock
spinning thoughts in the dark
silently, from here
you gleam
and reach to us who
see all things but are
unseen.

The unmet moment
is all we have,
the best intaken breath
the best because
it simply is, the choices
caught, our lives are
fishing in the stream, hoping
our dreams will bite -

I have no words for you tonight -
only my small, insubstantial
breath, my open hand
in parley, in welcome,

that cannot hold you here - in
salute I stare, a speck
of dust before your eye,
falling, falling,
gone,
as if it had
never been -

there is no trace of our breathing
on the pane -
the glass unclouded, crystalline
holds still, remains
a star amid a jewel
glittering

while our small arcs
shoot past
and fail -
incipient flares
losing to the dark
subsumed by scale
and the verdant, waiting arms
of love
of home.

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