By Shawn Stjean
A Ray, high in the window of East, flashing on this single patch of desert
Arrives Here and Now, a missive from a thousand years ago, or two.
A Wanderer stands, or kneels, or sprawls alone, only as sand or stars are alone,
Hurled by the fist of Cosmos,
Not haphazardly or forgotten.
Near Moons and Mountains eclipse,
Time and Tide part,
Shadows lurk at one’s heels, wading from shore of the terrestrial Sea.
But to eyes raised for the next Word, we wait in the clear.
Read the Book of our Song.
Thrust your arms–push off, past the weeds, drink, and breathe in.
Swim with us:
We Stuff of energy and matter, gravity syncing us in swirl.