dusk

I ache for dusk,
everywhere I am,
and every day it comes.
but mostly I ache for it here on the lake,
it is the time for simultaneity
it is the time for the sweet sort of death
with the harmonies of cries
from all of us who reside in both
spheres of the heart
"please don't let this day end"
"please, god, let this day end"
and in this moment, in this alignment
of the sun, each prayer is granted.
all prayers are spoken and granted
by tired hearts with tender eyes
that is why i can look at you
and be looked at by you
because we are being lulled by
ten thousand exhales.
both the grass and the wood
are breathing out their last
bits.
i can hear so much music then,
but i can also here the hollow
of the bowl,
the hollowness of our dreams emptied
and i want to tell you,
old man, fragile woman,
you sorrow is singing
in unison, and it is glowing
like the lit buildings.