Misty Brink
by the sea

Until you have to let it go, don't go
Border the world in blurs and phantom beats
to ring the void. In visible shifts
blanket chasms aglow, the misty brink
the hawk struts beside us on the grass
when the world is gone and I hold you
as if I were holding me.
These ashes were mine and scatter
out into the known world
whistles twist from the wind
having been of service once
to someone for some reason.

Written February 3, 2002, 6:32 pm
Read 783 times