Lunar Incantation
The light
is not its own, but
caught and passed on
to comfort a darkened world.
It inhabits the lonely places
and where absence
has gone unhealed,
becoming a summoner
of dreams and visions
as if seeking a form
to manifest something
of itself in the apparitions
wandering human sleep,
or in a memory
that gently brushes
the mind when still,
or drifting far away,
as the image
of a mother's cooling hand
caressing a child’s
fevered brow, or
comes upon the senses
like a breath
in the soft sweep of hair
across the lips
of a summers evening,
when love, for a moment,
has the power to make
the soul believe
it is not alone.
And there too in a song
surfacing in a few haunting notes
that sets a longing loose
to hear it all.
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