Two strangers crossed paths in the quiet night.
Not knowing company was arriving
One came wandering, lost in thought,
The other seeking what dreams had not brought
they sit side by side on an old bronze bridge
their was a slight moment of uncomfortable silence
No words at first, just a shared, still air,
A bridge ahead, an unspoken dare
They sat side by side, the world far below,
Where rivers whispered and time seemed uncertain
and so it began the stories they’d never forget
their shoelaces were dangling in the air like rhythm
which began to tempt the ocean underneath them
suddenly the tension breaks from the pigeons squawking
leaving the bats hanging under the bridge to blow their cover
and retreat away swiftly to the north
suddenly one of them begins to clear their throat
“Throughout my life I used to believe…,” one softly began,
“That life was a map, with a clear, steady plan.
But paths can falter, and dreams mislead uncontrollably,
What do you follow when hope concedes?”
the other looked down at the ocean gazing into their reflection
Then the other replied with a wistful smirk ,
“Well I have chased the horizon many times
till I could run out of my pitiful breath.
from what I learned life ain’t no straight line,
it can bend and it can sway with elegance,
to me every day there will always be a puzzle of choices to make.”
their truths laid bare onto one another
soon they began talking about love they’d lost
and burdens they’d bear on themselves.
sometimes a laugh would slip from their lips,
then some inner silence would rise once again
As the great ocean below seemed to answer it all.
the hours blurred into the creek of dawn,
Two strangers once, now have created a bond under the moonlight
By questions, by laughter, by their shared insight.
When they rose to leave, no promises were even made
Just a simple salute to the bridge and the night they stayed.
because of those fleeting long hours
Two lives had changed by a quiet power.

And though the old bronze bridge might never return
since the overall structure will crumble to dust in the future
The stars remembered, the river would churn
Two souls met once under the midnight’s reign
and though they parted forever, yet somehow they still remained

~
Hand and needle,
weapons of mass protection.
Mending day called solace,
bitterness in every stitch.
When all guides disappear
the hand begins to tremble,
that is the material point.
Listen to the water,
the sea is full of memories.
It knows everything,
it feels nothing.

A rage is building.
The sails unfurl,
the wind follows.
A hundred years of
traversing the deep
on a ship full of opiates
and other distant mermaids.
This blood vessel,
cresting the heart of the wave,
you will never completely cross
this body of water
until you learn to trust
the hands that hold back
death and it's squall.

Even now they drop anchor, singing
into the starry sky:

"Gather ye fishermen's wives
As thy men roll out to sea
Pray one and all
Thy sails hold strong this day..."
~

I blinked, but beheld it,
the marching of warships,
the broken caskets
at the feet where bishops
of Brixen worshipped,
and the agonizing steps to the castle
-- a spiritual climb --
gifts and prayers in each one's pocket,
(you've got yours, I've got mine).

And there it was opening in the sky:
a woman, in between cycles,
clothed with the sun;
her groom carries her up those steps,
they ring the bell,
and make a wish
for their love to flow against
the current like sea flowers
in the spring.

I blinked, but beheld it,
there was smoke,
there was wind,
there was nothing
but the warm scent of potica,
and pletna aplenty,
their upright oarsmen rowing
through the bloodstream.

They row for the stillborn
who never see the sun.

But there is freewill, and there is sin.

Our kingdom rise.
Our kingdom fall.

Forgive us first, Father,
(our blood shall feed the earth).