A Lamp Post, A Flower Pot, Abee, A Dew. Poem by RIC BASTASA

it is the horizon
that sunset and
the rising sun that
separates us,
we dread freedom
so much freedom which
makes us mere specks of
dust, mere trickles of
light.

eternity loses us somewhere,
how do you stop? or cease?
we cut eternity with our
human sight, we need
a destination, a port,
an island, a shore.

it is here where
we stop for a little breath.
up there a slice of sky.
down here a chunk of clay.
a piece of stone, a
blade of grass.

there is a need of some kind
of specificity to calm us.
to keep the nerves intact.

it is your kiss that gives life.
not the promises of salvation or
the final haven.

it is your touch that stabilizes
a journey
that gives a picture of what
comes next.

a lamp post, a flower pot, a
bee, a dew.