All the clouds living in the mountains
gave it to the rivers
who gave it to the sea, which was their dying.
And so I float on cloud become water,
central sea surrounded by white mountains,
the water salt, once fresh,
cloud fall and stream rush, tree root and tide bank
leading to the rivers' mouths
and the mouths of the rivers sing into the sea,
the stories buried in the mountains
give out into the sea
and the sea remembers
and sings back
from the depths
where nothing is forgotten.
about the way the moon rises
over cold snow, night after night,
slowly becoming that last curving and impossible
sliver of light before the final darkness.
I refuse it even the smallest entry.
like a new moon, slender and barely open,
be the first prayer that opens me to faith.
"I keep traveling around the bend
There was no beginning, there is no end
It wasn't born and never dies
There are no edges, there are no sides
Oh yea, you just don't win
It's so far out - the way out is in..."
- Any Road , George Harrison
"you got the music in you!"