Flight will merge us, answer our quest
For what transcends visible things;
For now, as each hemisphere sings
Differently, I wonder if you’re dressed,
Watching the open moon as I suggest
With these words my moth-like wings,
My fluttering being seeking meanings
That, once consummated, will rest.
And when time has concertinaed,
When the butterflies near the blue
Tropical water keep time our rhythms,
When the aloneness that made us add
A search for love so undeniably true
Has ended, the universe quietly hums.
by Michael Fitzgerald-Clarke