Fantastique

Wanning gibbous

but still full of fantastique

in the face of the impossible.

under

Under tall palms

in a thirsty parched place

held the last drops of light

between my fingers and my face

in the valley of the sun

a vision undone

held only once

held only once

held only once.

Under the red sandstone

I embraced the moving light

the roving gaze of God

the same as all nights

but different

moment

by moment

by moment.

Under the water

the sounds became one

the souls are shattered

to rejoin and become one

and they cry in unison

for the sun

for the sun.

And in our own sorrow

and between our own pains

we breathe in and breathe out

and breathe in once again

and hold it

and hold it

like we'll hold only once.

Hold it

and hold it

we live only once.