Turn as the Seasons are Changing

Turn as the Seasons are Changing

Standing still on a snowy hill

crying tears on an empty ocean.

They fall like stones but never reach bottom

for they are weightless and their need is to travel.

Traveling in circles, seeking a shelter,

they drift on the waves and the currents.

But they'll never see sunset only horizon,

for their visions can never arrest them.

Standing still on a snowy hill

reaching for the eye of heaven.

My touch is stung by a thorn of time

bleeding for the dying of the season.

Earth gape and swallow my heart

to wait for the day of harvest.

To wait and to wonder on the step of my lover,

the step that can never be taken.

Standing still on a snowy hill

whispering my words to the winds.

I leave my mark to flee and turn,

turn as the seasons are changing.

I curse lost days and time-full night

measured sleepless by a tapestry unfinished.

For my love has no borders, no threads to be woven,

woven to blanket the oceans.

Standing still on a snowy hill

watching the flickering sun hide.

The clouds it draws are the smoke of dreams

that vanish to dew in the dawning.

The weather impatiently stirs the darkness

like a dreamer caught between waking.

Waking too early, for the morning is raining,

raining on an empty tomorrow.

3/19/79