Night Watchman

Night Watchman

The night watchman knocks at my door-
it is too dark, filled with hungry ghosts
I am cradled in the candle’s light
it is too bright for a shadow’s short breath
Now the weary watchman sleeps at my feet
the ghosts have all gone

The fire and I have danced until we’re dizzy
we have nothing but the pulse of our life
and our death..
we end and begin luminously
The light is how we speak–
We cast our cries up high

Stars can catch our meaning simply
they have spoken since birth
of the first light-
they know its life as their own and ours
We are dust of dust
Sung into creation of the same mother

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March 9, 2014 · 3:57 am

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