The Talisman

Morning moon came out A single spotlight searching For soft secrets; Bright night exposed in Shadow-washed etchings; Like fingerprints fading On cold tin plates.

Thin paper folded into shapes An unexpected geometry Attracting minds to follow; Connecting ancient visions With modern eyes Each one like the other Thoughts linked In common sight.

The same small hands That stitch the thread also Make our inner violins Sing in one continuous note; Rising as a whippoorwill whispers In cries so faint at first we think Our sense confused In perfect symmetry; For surely no sound so clear Can be in the world Of innocence forgotten?

And when we reach out To stop the dervish And think about the great journey And its long gray weave Over trappings and scribbles; Some things may be copies Others simple, workday sights; Sudden truth in brilliance clear; That in the test of time There cannot be Another you.