The trembling sun has faded now

into whirls of starlight,

into shadows dipped in pearl,

into the rivers of nebula and galaxy

stretched out as if on some

impossible canvas above me...

and in this moment the

turning of the ancient sky

is louder than your words, or mine;

in this moment the waves are like muted symphonies

on stone, crashing them to dust that will wash up

on some distant shore,

one billion years from this instant—

and I will have stood here and watched it happen,

on this peak of a cloudness night

beneath stars as countless as the blades of

grass that shiver in a wind across the mountains.

I will have stood here,

beneath the purple ribbon of the Milky Way,

and realized that there is more light in this darkness

than I could ever have imagined.