Under the dead oak
Where dead hands reach from the roots
To grab at my legs as I stare up
Into the pallid luminance of the goddess moon.

I wonder if my time should come,
Would I spill all my secrets?
Would these outstretched fingers be calling out to the stars
Receive me as my soul flew from the scars
And saw me off into the distant distance
Would heaven be so hard to achieve?

Well, I’ve spent all my years,
Coming back to this retreat,
Umbral canopies hide my escape
As I write for days about the last one
Because the last one I thought was the one
And in all these moments I’ve -
Grown to know that I’m
Not very certain of certainty, no.

I want to know before I go
Off into the ephemeral ether
Was I ever the one you chose?

As the curtains begin to fall
And the stage starts to fold,
May I find courage,
If I could be so bold,
Reaching the pallid luminance
With arms outstretched by the root
I’ve barked so loud at the moon.

Touched by the light of grace,
Hoping these limbs shape the form of your face
Could you be the one?