Lone Hunter

From a new book in the works, titled Lone Hunter

Dear, are you waning or waxing?

we shall leave this to time and chance
a trace, that crosses the fault line


now, aligned as we are, as if it was to become a long, dark night

we were surveying, searching, measuring, of sorts

there in the vista, I can find you
hunting by the light
as if there was some urgency, under the canopy of a night sky

Imagine retracing our steps, to be born here and glide along with patience

you whispered, am I emerging or descending?  tell me, are you a lone hunter?

Just as it was, you come to me during the small hours

yielding, before you follow from above.