a burst of light spread like blossoming flower,
with scent like the end,
over meadow, canyon, hill, and wood
towards white, towering cliff:
tall and proud diving board for mote of light,
gazing down at sea below
the voice of water called,
not fish or boat,
but trillion more lights—
dark mercury, lights of blackness
in wavering current
our light dove farther, faster,
into water with no splash—
penetrating deep, to be one of many.
the sea full of spirits
with breadth of voice—
some whales and fish,
others, in anger, whirlpools, volcanoes
“to the sea!” they cried,
“to the sea!” he went,
and found not the companionship of lore.
for a sea’s traversed as breath of light,
or, slower, as shark, crab, sand dollar,
waiting, watching, learning—
even light could yearn,
and love,
and lose,
‘cross vast oceans bio-luminescent in black and life,
stars above a grave,
requiem for angels seeking a watery home
in which they already lived.
from london town, to easter island ever more,
fireflies joined the luminous dark,
adding voice to loud, brash silence,
the blind watching forever,
the deaf hearing mute elegy,
where light reaches not—
only salt beams there
—cold—
reaching up for the sun,
never meeting it,
the distance too great—
the sea, as always, full of spirits.
