Friday, April 4, 2014

In The Evening, Where The Deserts End

In the evening, when my heart
is full as the sky is of stars,
then I will go out to the dunes of
sand that stretch endlessly to the sea, and
there I will wait.
In the sparkling
starlight of the night, I will wait
for you,
and when you come we will leap
hand in hand
down slopes that fall away under our feet until
we can fly,
and together we will soar
through the night like fruitbats,
great, leathery wings of belief
pinning us in the sky.
We will dip and twist and glide and turn, and
when we have flown high enough, your hand clenched
tightly in mine like we are locked together forever,
we will reach the stars.
The sand will stretch below like a sea,
waves of sand frozen in place only
by time and perspective, and
we will see that the boundaries of our desert
are finite;
that the barrenness of our minds comes to
an end;
and that outside it all is fertile.
Together
we will swoop back to the ground and remember
what we have seen from our vantage
point of the stars: we will walk onwards
with steps that achingly climb, only to slip
back halfway to where they came from, and
our muscles will burn
as we scale the heights of our
disappointments
– but we will not forget.
We have been to the stars,
and they have shown us:
the desert too will
end.

One day, we will find the fence, and scale it.

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