THIRD VISION

You and I reside in time alone,
only now come to a deserted passage,
beyond any dreams of green pools or distant voices.
Stand in the gray light where only unremembered faces
lament the winter moon, full and waiting to reveal the night of rain.
It is more than a weeping dream it is blue gulls always at the shoreline,
rippling water making a journey of miles damp and dark. Your memory blurs into a whisper.
It is not for yourself a day of echoing reason under the mist.
In this is a way you have known more mountains.
The dead have waited always.
I slumber as do you.