Threshold

He peeks at us from waves.
Does he find our dream
too vague to see?
Are we shadows?
The masonry of a country
that will be his home.
Is there rain in his universe?
I do not remember rain,
or words that could be used
for songs.
Can he hear us from the womb?
What does he hear?
Do clouds float in his mind?
Does his mother’s heart
whisper him to sleep?
Does he see his father’s eyes?
The smile on his face?
Has destiny chosen him a name?
Will he answer when we call?
Until then, sublime mystery,
I will call you Love.