Drinking the Moon

In distance, sighted from afar,
On islands, salted seas breeze,
Rustled, tender-touched, and cheek caressed,
Memories of the past mingle with future’s hope, as the sun sets.

Among palms, sanded beach,
Dryly, lapsing waves’ edge, like siren song, winding and waning,
Emotions, like tides, crest and lay shallow-drawn,
Heated brow in setting sun’s glare, shaded by the perspective of a new dawn.

Souls, as thoughts planted, lie with feet in salty granules,
Bunched and pushed up through toes dug deep,
Buried moisture beneath digits and foot’s solidity, like fogged yesteryears,
Yet still, Her heart feels the shivered tremor of loss through tears.

Tanned skin faces the radiant, glorious Son,
Dried lips behold the heated sight of revealed Savior’s Light,
Reflection acts as collection, where obedience, in unity, is One,
Manifested through lined flesh and saline-drenched cheeks, a herald of victory.

Witness is given in time’s solace and touch, learned and listened,
Mercy and grace are shown, as after-images sear stained eyes’ retina,
Source is given form in embodied formlessness, Overshadowed Within,
Rooted and nourished by hidden soul’s dew, at Yeshua’s Source.

So still, the shore at night, memory and faith follow,
Only sound, the rising and falling, floating in hearted reflection,
The lives living left, save a solemn few, who hold dear the inflection,
Who, like me, drink the moon, like the noonday sun’s dew, toward introspection.