Where far fails to name the distance,
I saw your tender glance
in the darkest hours of night.
Your flickering eyes—ever so bright—
hung softly
in the quiet folds of nature’s canvas.
I remember those eyes that followed me,
flashing silent heartbeats of love,
then haunting me
amid the mourning whiteness of death.
When this land turns foreign to me,
I will cross the distance back
for you—
for the eyes I lost.
You will come with me, I am sure,
and together we will lean
from the edge of the night sky,
looking down at what we missed.
Then we will lend our light
to souls stranded
at the darkest crossroads—
brighten their faces, just a little,
if they search
for distant hope,
enough light for someone to keep going.