For Eric

We were washed up on the same beach, at random;
kaleidoscope souls, polished like pebbles by aeons
and oceans to opals, and each heavy with history.
Tossed up like flotsam from different worlds, out of reach
and abandoned by the tide, with nothing but each other and ourselves,
bleached dry like brittle dew, as fragile as salt crystals on driftwood.

Sparks fly when we burn and the flames turn incandescent
beneath the crescent of a pale moon, beyond adversity;
the radiance at the heart revealed, returning to eternity.