once in the rain

sitting by midnight lakes
reflecting stars
below and above
it becomes impossible
to tell which way is up.

once during a long lost night
i heard the wind,
at least i think it was the wind,
whisper my name.
and not even this name,
but rather my real name.

i am a journey.
a story.
a circle.
an ouroboros.
harmony of asymmetry.
so old i am unable
to tell you where i begin.

contemplating cosmogony
provokes the longing
to remember
all of our explosions.
reciting stories
locked in scars and chests
where only angels dare to tread.

both archer and prey.
i pray.
i know not to whom,
but i say thank you.
alot.
grateful for having nothing
and everything to learn.

and LIFE.
in which to leave my map.
my mark. my trail
of meandering dirty footprints.
i was here.