The trembling sun has faded now
into whirls of starlight,
into shadows dipped in pearl,
into the rivers of nebula and galaxy
stretched out as if on some
impossible canvas above me...
and in this moment the
turning of the ancient sky
is louder than your words, or mine;
in this moment the waves are like muted symphonies
on stone, crashing them to dust that will wash up
on some distant shore,
one billion years from this instant—
and I will have stood here and watched it happen,
on this peak of a cloudness night
beneath stars as countless as the blades of
grass that shiver in a wind across the mountains.
I will have stood here,
beneath the purple ribbon of the Milky Way,
and realized that there is more light in this darkness
than I could ever have imagined.