Clouds rise from the sea,
Something whispers in swirls of shining lies:
Moon after moon mirrored in shivers of blue.
A life has been poured tenderly into a watery mould:
The feather of a Sunbird making its way to the sky.
It is always that which leaves without a trace
That is remembered the longest.
When your courage flickers like a lit match,
Let me be the hand that shelters you.
My palms might be rough and calloused,
But that is just so that they won’t blister
When your flame starts to roar.
In the night, everything seems
To widen out, to allure the light.
The borders of sky blurring intently,
Erasing the path on to which
My longing walks
On sore feet through farmlands of stars.
Alone like a pilgrim walking towards
The unknown.
When days are hard and frozen
Like steps in deep snow,
Dreams come to me
Like holly berries,
Brushed clean off snow
By an icy wind, to decorate
The winter-buried path ahead.
I am leaning against the pale November sun.
Longing towards the blue crests of sea.
My thoughts sinking into the twilight.
I hang one of them on the bluish black sky
Lighting the way into the Eveningland.
Among stars it disappears.
But it will still be there shining
For no one in particular,
Long after I am only a shadow drifting
Like smoke on the wind.
The rain is stepping on my life
And the seasons push my heart
Thoughtfully along slaps of wind.
I never had time to build a shelter.
I think I’d rather meet the night
With a weatherbeaten heart instead.
