You have danced across the ocean
never sinking with each signature,
you rush alongside time's mist.
Come, take my hand, my offering,
you are more than the steady pulse
of this January rain, much brighter.
I do not grow cold or restless,
for the warmth of the stars' shower
dusts its direction toward us,
And I feel nothing but your heart
aching not for broken skies,
past goodbyes; you regret
not holding me sooner.
The inner city buses don't wait,
the foggy lights continue to change,
but we will only ascend
where we make our home for the world,
who has sung while we were sleeping
on that blaring winter's night.
