THE JOURNEY

The journey of light

to the soles of your upturned feet

is a feat of a thousand years

across a milk way of numbers

that seems to pledge

allegiance to

another kind of time.

The journey is invisible to our eyes,

merged like drops of water

in the river of Sun.

The journey is silent to our ears,

casting its moves across the chess board

of our unknown landings faster than

the unstuck primal sound

of hello, or the fleeting weight

of goodbye.

The journey is unseen,

yet it is not unfelt.

Across valleys of rain

and harbours of foreign of ships

coming and going,

falling and rising again

towards its source,

returning again

to the homeland across the sea,

beyond the sky,

captivated in the cycle

of exodus and resurrection,

birth and transformation

through bodies of clay

and hearts of sacred ash

consumed in the fire

of dreams we've loved right through

or stoked until they're blue enough

to exhaust into forms

beyond our grasp or

cognition

written on palms

transformed by everything

we touch

in a garden underbelly

where even the sweetest apples

find their home again

in the omniscient knowledge

of the core of the earth

the journey feels eternal

to worn out soles masking

the footprint of an infinite

ever presence,

which although unheard and unseen

is not unfelt

in certain moments when

our resonance finds a confluence

and we flow together briefly,

merged in our corresponding elements

of water and light

emotion and yearning

igniting and

burning back to green,

our tidal river of closing

and opening

blindness and recognition

oneness and separation

breathing in and

breathing out

salty lagoons of

sadness and laughter

above an earth, below a sky,

between a birth and a death that

doesn't really seem to matter

except to matter,

finding each other

makes everything

easier.