The Inhabitant

The Inhabitant

-For Tiba

When you look, the silence hardens behind you.
We must accept all we’ve lost as necessary.
Each day the sun calls all creatures to worship.
When a friend places a hand on your blindfolded shoulder
trust the gold flakes they wade through.
Remember the moon holds nothing back
as she twists the stick mask side to side.
We must accept as necessary all that we’ve lost.
Imitate your ears, for evenings do not lay light skin over them to dream.
When a man arrives gloating a well tuned watch
breathe deeply and recall the full moon parties, the solstice bonfires.
When there is silence behind you, look,
a friend wades through flakes of gold to speak with you.
The light shines its afternoons on the graves of the billies,
those of the sands and of the hills and on you.
We must not accept as lost all that is necessary.
When breath is given, the poem becomes a heart one can live and set sail in.
Know that when a man imitates snow he is snow and that is all.
If your heart desires to draw rings of loneliness around it, let it.
Each day the sun calls all creatures to worship.
When mists decorate your room, ask both
names for them, that of the inhabitant and yours too.
Even when dreaming, your eyes are never shut.
When you lay your hand on a friend’s bruised shoulder
trust the flakes of gold you wade through.
Desire sometimes makes ribbons of things with its eager to help hands.
The inhabitant and you decorate your rooms with names, mists to ask eachother.
If rings of loneliness are drawn by your heart,
know you can walk the ground in any direction.
When the seagull prepares to fly it leans forward and leaps.
When your skin needs heat, walk to the nearest fire.

--
a piece from forever ago, reminded of today by a catchy pop song.