There's a ghost in the machine
A distant heartbeat
An echo
A recollection of tides pulled by the rhythm
Of the moon
A lunar cycle
Of leaves swirled
And now settled
By the whisper
Of the breeze
A message repeated
But not audibly heard
Remembered and understood.
You are in the right place
Where you need to be
All you need now
Is to breathe and be.

You're older now, soldier.
Your wars aren't the same.

Dust and the blinds they collect,
days that feel red, almost enviable
in their passion.

Shaky hands again, dry mouth
again, sirens singing low in
the black water day after day.

Death should mean something.
Encore for the epitaph!

It isn't real, but it is. It's replaying
in your head. It isn't real, but

it happened.

I see the sky crack open
And try to paint it closed with starlight,

But lo and behold it does not wish
To mend itself tonight,

And as it falls so gracefully,
I watch the sea lap at the city's ticklish toes.

Serene as ever, but still deep with mischief,
The sea plays with the city until it is bright with light

Of laughter and joy
Until it decides if it should sleep this night.

Sonewhere in the distance sits something,
What? Nobody knows,

But it sits there in waiting,
Like a sanguine sentinel, somehow hopeful.

And mark my words,
The cracking sky opens, opals

Pouring from an endless beyond
Just to shake hands with a never ending sea.
It is how the sky reaches out to the sea:

For once, just once,
I wish it would reach for me.