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.
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
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.
The harshness of your breath has quieted
And settled in hoarfrost.
Your tears have blazed and fallen
Your clutched hands have grown black wings
And whirled into my shadow.
But I have grown thorns of light
Defending my Evergreen skin
Against the black stains of your fire.
Only the smoke in the folds of your secrets
Refuge through me like left-behind migratory birds
Searching desperately for shelter.