ladders and stairs
paths and ways
tread and wear
I strain my eyes
carefully to examine
the face made of porcelain
all the while I am the puppeteer
holding my own tender strings,
from orbit, lines are lessons
in person, rifts to dear ledges
the more the experience loads
in the fading light ticking
grows – the burden of the coming,
for a mere message
bobs up and down
between the shores
a millennia
maybe more
sailing unto distant lands
a note from the world
unfurled
in a stranger’s hand,
might I be a comet and visit
all vectors, sectors
the domains of light
and the space between
until, at last
my tail glows unseen,
a candle in a courtyard
with a slight wind bent
aged eyes slow close tired
as the flame is utterly – spent.