Yearning. We all yearn to take that light into our hands and carry it with us through cold and empty spaces. But it is always with us, whether we see it or not.
Out in the canoe at night,
Another lonely soul floating on black water
I want to take the moonlight with me,
but it always falls away through my fingers.
It trickles through the trees standing patiently
Eyeless giants surveying their silent empire
Farther than I could ever glimpse
Roots hug the earth inexorably
They whisper to me of ages long passed
Of voices long silenced
Of worlds beyond this one
Where souls like me float on black water
I listen to all their voices
As night draws me further into its belly
These languages we could never utter
Tell of secrets unshared
Tell of truths ever-changing
Tell of new arrivals, lost in the labyrinth of life
In what they cannot understand.
I listen to their hunger cries
Their death rattles
Their love songs.
Do they sing for me too?
Is there a note in there somewhere
For all who wonder if they are ever heard?
Someone else must know the feeling
Of the moon slipping through their grasp
An unattainable treasure.
Out in the canoe at night
Another mayfly skimming across eternity
I'm trying not to look down
Just paddling resolute toward the echoes
Toward an unreachable lantern on some distant pier
Where someone sings just as we do
As they navigate their own black water.