The moon has shadowed me, like stillborn air
Along a country road, adrift in threads,
Behind a worn out wheel, the pedals bare,
As time leaves nothing here but cast off dead.
I share these words with clouds in wind-washed treads,
Where rock-strewn shores in riddled dreams belie
And time has spun in tight a spider’s web
Of figures etched in deep the dusk-drawn sky.
With this in mind I set aside my clothes,
Now freshly pressed for travels lost, to where
The door is shut and all my business goes—
There was an island, somewhere in the sea,
Where he sailed for miles away from any land,
Alone and guided by the stars he could see
To a distant shore on a narrow strand of sand.
Setting foot, he looked at a far off peak,
Eyes rising past a thousand ancient pines,
Through which he climbed past cliff and creek
Until at night he stopped to pray for signs.
He woke as the sun began to rise from the sea
And heard the birds come out in a choral song,
To sing a melody of when his heart was free