The Pennine and Lepontine Alps from Passo dei Salati, Val d'Aosta, Italy

           Where The Horizon Ends

 

             Sun-captive Earth and Earth-captive Moon,
             both have been haunting my dreams
             since I was imprisoned in a man.
             Tracing mind paths through the stars,
             as if destined for infinity,
             is not what best suits one
             who was born by a winding river’s shore,
             in a floodplain where the fog obscures the sky.
             And yet I feel like sucked up there,
             adrift across the boundless vacuum,
             free to bounce from sphere to sphere.
             So once my ashes have been scattered
             over the slowly moving liquid surface
             I’ve always been told I belong to,
             if you still would like to catch and jail me,
             you’ll have to look further outward instead,
             and let your dreams be haunted in turn.
             Here is the only possible clue:
             although they say imaginary lines don’t stop,
             you’ll just find me where the horizon ends.

 

 

 

               First published in Existere (Canada)