I must have strolled this ancient shore,
leaving no footprints in the sand,
seen the infant sun spill his light
over jagged horizons,
the glowing Moon ascend into sparse sky
to ride the assembly of stars,
a firmament at once remote
and intimate.
If you talk in eons — I see in seconds;
new life’s struggle to be born,
a fossil falling to the sand
from a cliff’s crumbling edifice.
For as I exist at the beginning
so do I persist until the end,
though I am not made of stars,
I merely follow the word
and the breath.
Copyright Francis 2021
Ciscography 