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.