night — when the ocean

raises its hand in

soft ambiguity, fog at once

captor of light & dissonance,

mystery as clear as death —

night becomes breath,

possible, provocation —

he steps, uncertain,

onto the hushed balcony,

civilization in its endless roulette

at the airport behind unspoken hills —

fireflies that shine

then leave us far behind —

two miles distant & still

he feels an ocean

brush against his face,

as sure as it is sightless,

& knows, then, why he is

startled by the marine layer

that spans the darkness — why

moisture & silence bring him,

sudden & unguarded, to tears —

the honesty dawn will outvoice —

these are the hours he lives for,

the space in which he senses

all he is & all he has not been —

promise, abandon,

the twilight which till now

he has refused to dispossess —

desire & fear twined

then diminished, quiet

at last as ancient bloodlines —

night his intimate —

his vast unyielding paladin.