A Passion to Fly

All That Is is My Mind,
And You are My Memory,
Without You, I still Am,
But Without History.

Skybirds flying
Into the chattering night,
Pulling the chill and smoky air
Deeper into my lungs,
I watch the Lord,
The silver light
Moving slowly on its line.

Time to retreat into my
Rocky hole, to sleep
There on the stone,
To succumb to the fantasy.

And there I will roam,
To create tomorrow?
Or if I die, to be
A bird who need not
Know.

Without You,
Still Moon and Sky,
But no Sound,
No Dreams
No Light...
To Turn and See,
Like I Would be Seen,
To Hear
What Would Be Heard...

Through Only You.

***

They could still be there,
Each star, each stone,
The Earth itself remaining,
Still revolving...
There is no doubt!
But it has no meaning...

Nor more than
The pits of
Poison berries
Still staining hands.

-Gray Squirrel