Song of the Silver Star

Curving lavender waves
descend into indigo

against bent circles
of successive evenings

that vanish like finely
woven wrecked sails

surging over the edge
of what we know

carrying off our cryptic
abandoned cities

our sunken continents
our blue ruins underwater

lit by whispering lanterns
where rumors of stars

waft up against
dark aquatic planets

another dissolving of mist
at the end of ancient quays

the whole world floats
upon the surface of earth

we watch in wonder as if
shining shapes in the waves

push aside the swaying fabric
of previous lives in the fog

repeating everything we say
to the other travelers

deciphering the lonely magic
of glyphs carved on a reef

a surf that keeps on finishing
whatever music came before

flying in the memory of sleep
voices softly diminishing

the motion of a silver oar
down a far off silver street

the quiet relinquishing
of another nameless shore

our voices fading in the deep
until there is no one left

to foretell the circle
that must be bent

whatever we set adrift

whatever shape of the world

whatever our journeys intend

whatever the music meant


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