We light a narrow candle
for every turnaround our little sun. make a wish
and try to blow them out with a single breath.
between the near stars and the ones we take on faith
there is no middle distance, no halfway measure
of the years they say light takes to get here.
souls are said to journey from other lives to get to
this one through what we call living here then
on to the next thing we don’t have names for.
there appears to be no reason to hurry.
no need to fear we’re going too fast.
we travel in constant nearness, it is always now.
we are here, then we are here.
the farther we go the more we are home…