We will meet as suns and moons, dancing

We all walk across horizons;

silhouettes marching.

Foot steps soft and firm;

striking like chisels,

leaving shadows strewn in our wake

to mark the emptiness of the homes we've left behind.

A constant juxtaposition

of form and loss.

We carve our face into the place

where the sky meets earth,

we are the words keeping rhythm 

within the core of the song.

What appears as a distant line,

separating the mundane from the heavens,

is just another lovers low breathing;

whispering sleep into our ears.

Nothing comforts more 

than the concrete knowledge

that love lies bleeding;

staining the vista into a crimson sunset.

All things beautiful must fade,

their name carved into granite steps

that we may climb as we ascend

in the daily struggle to banish death

from the depths of our eyes deep pools.

We all walk across horizons.

When we meet, it is not as people;

it is as suns and moons dancing

to the tune of feet sculpting

the peaks and valleys

that others tread as they seek

to meet us in the middle;

just another lovers low breath,

speaking sleep into our ears.

Though the distances between

are both minuscule and vast;

traveling from tip to tip

along an angels wing,

the stars mere dangling remnants of the past.

We are all of us blessed and cursed

with a deep seated dream of flight;

as we travel this earth

in the immeasurable space between earth and sky.

So when we fall, as fall we must,

we don't leave an imprint

so much as we, in turn, become a horizon ourselves;

another boundary to transverse,

for those who follow behind us.

A lovers farewell words

always become a childs tearful greeting

as it is given its first breath.

Every journey is fleeting.

Every mountain carved against the suns urgent rise

is a path intended to be born and worn smooth

by our transient passage.

We all walk across horizons.

We are all gifted smiles

at the sight of bright faces,

breaking low over the hills.

Our very being, so close yet so far,

brings dimension and light to dark places.

Likewise, our chiseled shadows

remain as aftermath,

an exquisite inspiration

for those who make art. 

We can never fill the void within a chest,

without the eventual promise of the next step. 

We all break hearts.

We all fall from an infinite height

and with our exuberant impact

carve our names with earth-shattering precision

into the staggered horizon, lost in the distance.

And through the vagaries of chance

we will make  our lives either whole or broken.

I do not speak of a soul.

Only of the brief moment,

right now,

when my eyes make love to the contours of your body.

We all walk across horizons.

We all take part in the shape of the world,

silhouettes marching as the setting sun

frames our triumphant departure.

Reviews

[Francis Danger]

absolutely brilliant stuff. very, very evocative imagery.