The lost purpose of evening
when the stars are fertile
and time bends back

dreams edge their masters
into realms of dust
glowing in another universe
just across the wobbling sea.

The vagaries of day desist,
while sleep insists on
passion's focus
swimming in long sunlit waters
for the moment before it fades
back into the boundless sea.

Moon flares its rhythms,
broken words racing into its light
how do we locate ourselves
in the blazing cacophony of night
so far beyond us it seems silent?

We can't go back, we can't go on.
With aching echoes of yearning
the urge to wake back into time
before the night is solved
into the consolations of morning.

 --early March 2013