Mourning in Evening
If I stood on the shore of the Pacific,
With the tanned sand beneath me and the stars above me,
I would walk into the lapping dying waves that touch the sand
And swim across the wide Pacific,
To the bay where I could meet my lover
And see the ocean’s depths within his eyes.
If I lay in the heart of the bright desert,
With the white sand beneath me and the sky above me,
I would spread my arms out across the burning starry sand
And look into the blue of the sky,
To the emptiness that lies above
And find the peace of nothing in my mind.
Now I sit on the shore of the Atlantic,
With the shelled sand beneath me and the dusk above me;
I will watch the shorebirds walk among the failing dying waves
And dream a way across the drumming ocean,
To another life I offer up
And sacrifice to gods of what must be.
