It will never return
Every single day a wish sets sail
But nothing ever floats back
The constant churn of the tide
Is a clockwork peril
A nomadic timekeeper
Telling us over and over
And over again
The time has come
To look elsewhere

~
Dweller on the threshold
It's now coming back
Earth moon transit
Losing contact

Heading for the door
Fuzz and timbre
Surrender in my hand
A final act of war

My last words travel far
Closer to the speed of sound
No time to bury
Mixed flags in the ground

The phantom facing me
Is no recovery
There are a thousand of me
And each one is disappointed
~

~
I'm coming to you,
Oh purlieu blue,
No more walls of Berlin
Shall stand between us,
Your name is a link to happiness,
Just the very thought of you
Reaches beyond the tide
And gives life to children,
Our children.
~

Days flit by
like a
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drop

As If watching a leaky faucet
In a plugged sink
The drops are slow to build
Weighted down by their own mass
As they reach a point where gravity
can no longer be surpassed,
To a
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drop

As they fall into the basin
scattering ripples
And splattering droplets
As they fall
Gathering light in a glittering bowl
As the next drop slowly begins to flow
By the
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drop

But once you’re attention is pulled
And the visual is no longer there
Only a sound heard
Consistent tempo filling the air
Seeming to speed
where eyes can’t see
And the budding drops
fall carelessly
With a
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drop

before you know it the basin is filled
With the drops cascading
beyond ones will
And the ripples now
scatter to waves against the brim
Caving to gravities endless whim
As a
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drop

Once you notice, it’s far too late
The marble is shimmering
with streams and ponds
As it tallies the fee of water wasted
So too does time slip from the basin
And the coins we pay
exchanged with age
To a
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drop

Before you know it
time has come to a stop
along with both
the drip
and the drop

Looking back at life brings on a shiver:
landmarks and stygian fragments,
radiant corrosion.

Will my feet still carry me home?

The morning breaks,
turn the blue skies on!
we're committed now,
guided by a God few know.

On Earth the math is made up,
8 billion people
and 1,000 questions,
out here the days
are numbered differently.

But in the ether aura
there are silent obligations:
we're trading passengers midflight
--the jester and the acrobat inside the LEM,
Marco Polo on the rocketship,
we're eating the survival kit,
making postcards of the trip.

All spoils for survivors.
Post signs for a near perfect disaster.

You are on my mind.
You are in my heart.
Are you in my blood?
I would die for you.

If this is goodbye, remember,
these things happen...