Becoming

The night falls like an azure blanket here

A moment on a pinnacle, alone,

through music hills and lighthouse points.� But near,

too near, too dark, I make a silent moan

And drive away the dread.� A heavy stone

descends as fireflies offer silent prayer.

An empty longing drives a spirit flown

to change its shape. And unaware;

alert enough to see the change.� It scares

me that I might not make it, still might fade.

Re-born from desert, twilit sands and air,

but always broken, still always afraid.

I want to give to those who made this dawn,

this homeless paradox.� A pride and fall.

It works to blind oneself, become a pawn,

and in the night entrap oneself with thunder-spawn?

with human lies.� But, dreaming, I defeat

the fear of life, make a sculptor gone,

and find that shaping others takes backseat

to shaping dreams that rise in dawn's red heat.

November 2004