As weary as an apprentice in the astronomy class,
I am tired of reading charts and lines;
yet I go not into the open night
to see the stars spark with footfalls as light as grass.
I turn the pages slowly
like the tide
that roves in peace with its red cape of foam;
and flowers and trees and tightened arch of sky
spread over my fading sight
with splendor so effulgent and clear
that only known to a volcanic dawn.
And within the light,
every time,
I see you,
lost in my roaring water and stormy fog,
like the flowers and trees and tightened arch of sky ---
all so far behind
these meaningless imprints you struggled to make,
a song cannot be sung
even with the loudest voice in this entire universe.