Another coast whispers in blue
And in the awakening swirls of fog
A butterfly whirls into my creased vision.
It ignites and burns out, ignites and burns out again,
Ignites…and everything feels light as though
A journey is about to begin.
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 night is like the quiet surrounding
The cry of a solitary seabird or
An imploding hunger tearing a soul
Without a trace of sadness.
There is a draft of sun in the oceans
A mute conversation about destiny.
In this nagging desolate irony
Glaciers drift invisibly towards
The naked warmth of trees and
Roaring dawnlights slip in between