The Cosmos Whisperer

When that flicker of forgetting comes across the
face of knowing,
and caverns of cosmos open up,
one to another,
I'm scared in the body but not in the soul.
 The caves of connection
cross too quickly for comprehension.

I've lived a very small life,
and this body wishes to be known,
yet the trying is so utterly
incomplete.

I have none of the assurance that other
bodies seem to know, and follow.

I've covered and copied much,
and called it learning. But lately the
cosmos whisperer has leant my way and
offered me paths I've never taken.
Maybe it's too late, perhaps the time for a story
has passed.

Yet the sea says something in the waterman of me,
and the sky knows the wind's answer,
and something in the dawn gold
gleams anticipation.

Tomorrow I'll take my warrior boat and listen.
I am already told I'll never come back but to the
ones I love.

That's difficult, almost impossible:
how do you know who you love unless you know
how to listen to
the cosmos whisperer?

I see there are many shades of light that declare,
and I hear the sky say water in many forms.

I've also heard of small winds whispering from
the mirror. Everything opens
should you want to enter.