top of page

I Walk


into the end of a day
into a fading sun, letting go of
the earth, stumbling through empty space
and the sleep of revolving giants
without whispers but full of secrets
into a singular dream
of a god who forgot its name
who is trying to remember by touching her face
by feeling his chest
their one heart pulsing together
like a lighthouse revolving on a cliff where birds silently fly overhead
above waves that pound incessantly
the wetness of rocks spray the air with moaning vapours
and the pouring of rivulets streak the earth with the salt of sweat
and the heat of our embrace
that fuses us into a holy grace
I walk towards the muse with a broken heart
the poet who lost his art
into the dark night
with no thought and no hope
but with the knowing that the day will always come again
and that the sun is one of many suns
and that the stars are there to guide us


bottom of page