A Bridge

I peer over the edge Đown to the rocky cove Where the waves swell And bob in a cycle of Motion. The air is cold And wet and seems to Reach the space between My body and my soul Preaching some type of Knowledge that is gained Through the passing of Distance. I open a bottle Of wine, lean back on a Stone and let my feet Hang off the cliff wall It's the summer solstice And I'm looking for meaning I see a white rock that Seems to have a voice That is to say, a way of Speaking to me. I wrap It in cloth then put it In my bag. I look up at The moon, pour some wine On the ground and say "Just as these waves are Your heartbeat, surely This wind is your breath." I sit and wonder how much Time and space lay between Myself and the last to have Felt it pass by I wonder where it is now It's nearly midnight but This far north its still A bit light out. I stand Up and pour the rest of The bottle off the cliff The wind scatters the Wine into a red mist as It falls in slow motion Disappearing into a Fog of ocean "It's the edge of the world," I say to the stone wrapped In cloth, though I know This water is no longer A gate keeper but a bridge