For Geneva

Hover, high above the seas of love.
Watch the clouds feed it below.
The darkness comes
because we go backwards
against the sun, into the moon.
He is always welcoming, that moon.
And tonight, he is full and to my right.
I wonder to whom should I offer
my gracious thanks,
for with him I know alone
With him, I know
there is no alone anymore.
He says her name, I rebuke him:
the injury is too much,
I can not walk out of here.
Oh Moon! How you tower
over dreams lost,
how you know the sensitivities;
gentle checks upon my heart.
Can you tell me, Senior Luna,
can you say in my ear
the names of my loves
that you would shine upon,
their footsteps lit by your glow?
Can you, Dear Herr Mond, say to me
the color of my love’s hair?
That sweet dark pitch, do you know
in your pale light, have you seen
how it shimmers more than the sea
after more than a year in
a New World?
Oh, I see it, the glow –
it is behind me now,
but it was not my back that turned;
rather this world has spun
and I have fallen in love,
lurching from place to place.
Have you, sweet liar of the skies,
have you?
Have you seen my love?
I would show you her shape
if you would shine bright enough
that she would be seen
across these continents
and divisions.
I will confess this:
I will go to no wedding
until it is mine and hers.
The wisdom is for others,
the love is for me,
the dreams are for her.