Tonight the hovering aluminum moon
listens to your orbiting thoughts
the way you listened
to canyon echoes
in childhood,
transfixed and entranced.
The North Star looks you in the eye
finding each of your thousand selves,
the hollowed and diverted
the hopeful and enriched,
as glorious as its own reflection.
The murmuring waves of midnight
are as familiar as your own
undulating heartbeat.
The tide, as if it were
your last quiet breath
in the life before this one
when answers finally revealed
themselves and your spirit
soared back before time
diaphanous and undistilled,
a constellation of its own.