From 2015, 02 August New Moon


A crest of moon ,
a steady boat
sailing across.
A distant light of a star
reaching to tell
of a force that travelled,
and reached right here with no distraction
to deter or stray;
only an eye that occurs here
and a mind that infers an origin
of a lamp that burns
in a primordial cave.
Beyond, I do not know.

Myriads of visions arise and go;
walking even as I fall and rise,
trying to breathe even as I die,
even as I grasp, letting go.
Looking at the moon, I recall the sun.
In the rise of the wave,
I already begin
to sense the fall of the ebbing wave.

And in the crash of the wave, I see the arising
once again,
surmounting the dissipation of the tide.
The heron will watch and one day spread the wings.
The wings have the wisdom and the call of the sea.

New moon
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