The cups are all put away, the tea things set straight and tidy, the film is over, the ending final.
I watch your face, a barrel of tears in the daylight, a configuration of spattering grief, and somewhere I can sense we are near home now, it isn't far away.
You walked with serenity in the garden of bliss, when your toes were blessed with dew and whimsy,your eyes were clear and looking upward. The door was obvious to find, the key turned easily, just the way it should.
But now, your face is bright with pain, fueled by longing. The garden has grown all a tangle, there's no way of knowing where to step.
We talk of the wheel of life, you and I... we talk of turning, turning, turning.
Today, I'm a spring daisy, feeling warm rain after a long hard winter. You are an icicle, threatening to melt, sliding down into streams and puddles. Together we form a current, pulling at the harbour. Together, we fall apart, in our own ways, into life and yearning.
We trade places like fishermen keeping watch through the early dawn. I never meant to stumble upon happiness, I never meant to fall into the river. And you, you are resplendent and glowing, pain shooting you like the greatest gun slinger.
We match, living and dying in our own ways. We track the paths to our hearts through dangerous terrain, all sorts of weather. And home, it isn't far away, it is calling below the shadows of sea birds, beneath the valley of nightfall, through the watch of the ever rising, ever setting moon and sun.