Awake, But Not Alone

A ghost of a pulse follows me,

Floats, woven on the shadows

on the seas of sifting shade

brazen in the night.

It choses with care, then takes

a corner of an eye, settles

with bones of dust beneath a cloak.

It lingers longer than any moth,

knows the moon is too far.

Then comes the gentle serenade,

Wrapping me from the dark,

A spell that finds the fragile heart

awake

and ties its shadow, softly

to the trembling earth.