Whale Eyes

I wander this earth a nomad,
mindful of my home
and shaped by it.
Yet when we meet,
you see only form and clay substance,
not my eyes.

When I grow old,
and I grow a beard,
masking the unstable flesh,
you will notice my whale eyes.
Unperturbed, they remember,
and they look into another world —
one mystic, silent, vast as the cosmos,
filled everywhere with music.
My soul lives there still.

And someday —
even before I pass from this earth,
even in this form —
I will dive away again.
The light of heaven (behind my eyes)
will guide me in oceanic chasms
as I plunge through,
by day to roam in lovéd dark,
by night to rest in ancient arms.
Oh my home,
Oh deep transport.

Spread the Word …

In celebration of the launch of our newly updated website and to help spread the news of the upcoming volume two of Mouth of Fire, Breath of Dreams, we are offering a FREE hardcover copy of book one to visitors who help us spread the word about the new site. LEARN HOW

Guest Comments

Share on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterEmail this to someone