Okay. So it wasn’t the last one
The universe has reasons beyond our ken
It was a matter, that damp day,
Of vulnerability, patches
Now torn free; whose choice is it?
Not yours, certainly not mine
Who’s wounds have song
Like a dime dancing
On the surface of a drum tight spread
Beaten now with the deep rhythm of passion
Beneath the rare glow of a moon
Now full, now blue, now eclipsed.
It is not you or I who decides
What is wasted and what sent on
As the silver curtain is drawn
Once more, the wheels of light turning
Now night, now day, now lost
Now found, like a pearl white shell
Fetched up into the ancient sand.
Whose reach is this
Who brings us here, now joy,
Now fear, as bright
As yonder moon is round?
Come with me now, with all that is
And can be, and is not
Forgotten here, in this heart
Or anywhere the darkness falls
Only to reveal the rainbowed light
And, standing as we do beneath
That sphere of changing sky
And having done at last that single thing
To answer love with love
And settled there, to be one
Alone, with everything.