Where is the falcon
that roosted on the deserted tree?
There is no tree there now.
No bleached canopy
where the falcon watched.
He was my sentinel.
He elevated my soul
and put my horizon above the horizon.
I want myself there.
Whatever the shape of his wings,
his fierce beak.
I gave him my poet.
He gives me his heart.
Others do not see
the tide we follow.
The spirit of our incessant seeking.
But it is what our lives are.
Seas,
expanding on the ocean
of our mortality.
Children of the portal.
Change coming on the universe.
Stars exchanging their destinies,
until nothing moves
that is not a song,
a dance,
or shines,
that is not the intelligence
of a new face opening its eyes.