Lookin' Up: A Moroccan Night Sky

Not without you. My woes hang like decrepit limbs, strung out on a line so thin like silk. I lie poised with a beauty man struggles to find, in blatant view and neglect. Joined by the thrum of 10,000 spinning stars we stretch our web to exhaust the light. To craddle the ones you left out of sight. Casting silver threads of beaded life, changing tides and guiding lost souls still parched from your rein, I struggle.

But you, you sleep while I blanket the night. I slide you into the bed I made of hope and kiss the hand of a love too weak. Sweet dreams I cast, still staring past with empty eyes.

Yet the sea bears what the heart wills it to hide and there, beneath the luminous sheet of flickering stars, I see the poignant truth to these spilling tides. There lies the refelction of a wound so deep the swell was swallowed. So once more my lips brush the sweeping lash you still hold closed, and I watch as you fall away to the will of sleep. For a life in your shadow, stealing kisses from the sun is not enough when each day you rise with beams of golden honey, ignorant and alive.