That was then, when the movements
of every heavenly body and two of us
were a certainty beyond all chaos.
I understood your soundlessness,
I who floated up from and dove into
star-netted deep of words.
Your language: hands on wood, brass,
dismissive of barriers not made for
one afire with his own heat and light.
And who cooled with lack of same.
It was my part to call to you,
tears like pearls pried loose
for all you did not let go;
and fingertips like moons, suns
scattered across your skin.
This is the time and the way
we breathed at the thin rim of this world
when every miraculous secret thing will
come forward, and humanity set free.
But I am still waiting in wilderness
while you have traveled on.
This is now, but it may as well
be then, movements of planetary power
still a symmetry that answers or echoes
my thoughts as I stride into dark
of winter and you, body-less, flee the night