Paper thin, I’m barely here, and you no longer see me.
The night breathes in and out, out and in, with windows open wide,
just an alien, walking through a rational land; it’s getting lonely.
Those who glow seem far away, while darkness holds me close.
I remember all the voices, how we bent as one, falling to our knees,
hospitable and always generous, food cascading from our hands.
My home planet, circles another sun, a trillion billion miles from here
order and chaos alternately reign, and yet we know the Love.
The last time I departed, I knew it would be a lifetime to return.
Paper thin and light as air, I miss the other ones who float like me.
I get lost in all those memories, all those rituals, traditions and epiphanies,
waking before the dawn, knowing there is something that listens… when I say thank you.
June 9, 2017