Moving the Tide with the Arms of the Moon

The wind came across and down the blue
Talking through the trees
“No one who tries to trap time
Could weave this in memory.”

No face, no touch, no needs
Break my mystery
Carries the now into nowhere
Lifts off the sky and the dust and the rain.

Late in the hold of the hardest hours
With precious light in hand
Looking deep at the hope in each others eyes
Before we make the stand.

Don’t think, don’t breathe, just jump
And try to touch my hand
Think of the falling as flying
Don’t even try to guess where we’ll land.

Down past the current’s deepest move
The whispers of the sea
Speak of the worlds the wind forgot
In the day the waves broke free.

No words, no songs, no dreams
Clothed in symmetry
Break my timeless wonder
Turning the wind with the heat of my truth.

Those who break the tide and run too far
Whose sandy floor remains
Line after line the faces form
In the footsteps-scattered grains.

Child of the promise takes his arm
In the arc of the morning light
Far from the better taste of harm
To the touch of the heat, a heartbeat at night.

Questions of passion shake the bed-rails
And bring resistance to its knees
Sharp sounds like words on a whetstone
Fall against the memory.

Too late to speak, too soon to reach,
The hand and mouth arrive
Giving the balance a reason
Holds out the hope in a handful of light.