Stars along the far shore drip their light
Back across the black glass to the pier.
I hold up my hand but their light
Does not illuminate.
It is late and, as if in response to my raised hand,
The sparks burn out.
Turning to return to the comfort of my home,
The irrepressable glow of the sun tints an eastern view,
I wait.
My heart screams with joy at the arrival of the day.
The black of night is now the black of forever.
I wished to see and saw more than I was prepared to see.
I remember the points of scattered light,
But I was confused by the sun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem