Day 539: One Who Has Traveled

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∴

when love has been lived in,

it does strange things to our boundaries.

 

it is the wild land
that lies
unmapped
between our villages
and homes.

 

but just as one who has traveled
too far
and was lost,

disoriented by the distilled air
and concordant chorus
of strange birds
that fall
and burn
and rise again,

the experience of such places
expands the terrain of our souls,

and like a jack,
lifts our heavy
things from the ground.

 

there,
we find ourselves,
hoisted and burst,
rearranged and changed
as we funnel back into our skins
and find our respective ways
back home.

 

strong wine sacks are we
that strain at the seam
from such rich
and new
intoxications.

 

pour out,
pour out
in aperitif glasses,
small sips
of recollected love.

for this drink is my mirth
as i sit at the hearth,
and organize
my closet of thoughts.

 

the ghost of that strange land

does linger.

 

endless comfort,
always in me,
ever aching,
warm.

 

it sets a scan
on the horizon
for distant sails
on the sea
that say,

yes, yes,

it was not a dream.

∴

 

 

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