I see the lines – slipped between
the verse hidden in the new space
below the picture of who we are
when we are no one else at all.

Fly my friend, fly from those fears
that hold like tendrils to our feet
like roots to the bad cold earth
where darkness becomes so very us.

See with me the lines – painted
upon these new horizons where we dawn
like a thousand haiku whispering
louder than thunder.

Fly my friend, fly with me away
to that silver oh-mouthed moon
singing out the poetry we become.