A Thanksgiving Poem

IN THE MAIN OF LIGHT I don’t remember where we have met each other along the endless journey across so many busy rivers : In that perfect spring when you finally whispered my name after waking from an inexplicable dream? : Or, at the disguised crossroad where the Past turned into our common Night? What I do remember is we were all lost— unwilling to take the route where reason madly shouted— lost because we heard an immense calling : While looking at the stars whose lives hang by a thread on the new shore to which we have been knowingly transported from one dream to another by the same body of water ... What does “ten thousand miles” mean but the ocean’s simple turning of the head? So in dreams, distance diminishes fears of being lost disappear shadow erases names dream begets dreams In the main of light the same horizon keeps arriving or receding (depending on what songs or mayhem like folded news traveling through your unsleeping kingdom) the same vowels and consonants of various tongues keep singing as if no one has ever died :: Fall/05