. A certain night sleeps

and the universe closes its eyes. 

The spaces between the rocks sleep. 

The tree tops stop swaying.  

The woman in me wakes .

Her mirror goes to sleep

and she finds she's grown old;

finally and lastly,

grown old.

A hymn, a psalm, a lullaby

nothing of these is needed now.

Far from here,

there on the beach, someone who travelled eternally

without a thought for his soul

has now come to rest in silence

and sitting in the moonlight quietly.

Thoughts, good or mad, insolent or humble,

words, mysterious, foggy, or hurtful in clarity,

looks clouded in doubt or revelation,

silence of the sea and the wind are the abridged version of all.

The woman in the heartland

of the continent of her mind

insularly.

And his vagrant soul

returned from travels,

sitting in the moonlight silently,

contemplating her eyes reflecting

dream and doubt,

filling his mind endlessly.

Eternity dwells

in the spaces carved

in the interstices between rocks,

a moment for the moon to descend and feel

the desires, the yearnings that propel the humans

to go in search of answers all over the earth,

and finally end in the lap of the night.