A Bridge

I peer over the edge
Đown to the rocky cove
Where the waves swell
And bob in a cycle of
Motion. The air is cold
And wet and seems to
Reach the space between
My body and my soul
Preaching some type of
Knowledge that is gained
Through the passing of
Distance. I open a bottle
Of wine, lean back on a
Stone and let my feet
Hang off the cliff wall
It's the summer solstice
And I'm looking for meaning

I see a white rock that
Seems to have a voice
That is to say, a way of
Speaking to me. I wrap
It in cloth then put it
In my bag. I look up at
The moon, pour some wine
On the ground and say
"Just as these waves are
Your heartbeat, surely
This wind is your breath."
I sit and wonder how much
Time and space lay between
Myself and the last to have
Felt it pass by
I wonder where it is now

It's nearly midnight but
This far north its still
A bit light out. I stand
Up and pour the rest of
The bottle off the cliff
The wind scatters the
Wine into a red mist as
It falls in slow motion
Disappearing into a
Fog of ocean
"It's the edge of the world,"
I say to the stone wrapped
In cloth, though I know
This water is no longer
A gate keeper but a bridge