Marco Di Caprio

I cross the unbearable light of the sea,
 adrift among leaves, among silences,
 where sibilant laments resound in me
 within the lucid sweetness of my grief.

The sea recedes. I enter the forest
 at the ford where the moon moves in silence
 through shadow and stream, no cry, no word,
 only a faint rustle in the dark.

I waited there for you, before the pass.
 I sensed you, breath without a name.
 With fragile lightness I released my cry
 and heard my abyss become a voice in air.

I move toward the shore still full of light.
 Moonlight trembles through the leaves.

The shore dissolves. The boundary gives way.
 The sea resumes its rhythm in my breath.
 The forest gathers, passing through me slowly.
 The moon drifts where my thoughts had been.

No line remains to mark who I once was.
 Water and leaf, light folding into light,
 and I sense a bliss beyond all thought,
 a pure presence,

as if it had always been there.