Nathan AM Almeida

[14 August 2019]

…and so he wanders
wanders to the house of the sun rising over the waters,
the house of the song of the light that spreads through the leaves
your name stirs in the waters
the house of green and blue and white and new
the house of the city of the child, the city of first and
find and walk,
the ark of dirt and twig and blades of grass,
the rain,
and so he wanders
wanders to the house of the sky,
the house of the cliff by the sea,
the house of the endlessness, the bold,
the house of the lover, the house of the wing, the song of a time,
where time is sold for pleasure,
where eyes stare up at the sky
the house of your name written twice in the afternoon haze,
the house of everything, where gold lies just beneath the surface,
a dream
gold is worth less than a dream,
and so he wanders
wanders to the house of the erudite, the scholar,
to the house of the wise, the known, the heard,
the shepherd and the shepherdess and the sheep,
the house of bread and water and wine,
the ember, where eyes peer on into the darknesses, the fallen leaves,
the house of yellow and orange and red and gold and brown
and purple,
where pleasure is sold for memory and memory is
sold for time
and so he wanders
wanders to the house of the mountain,
the house of the sea,
the house of the constellation of the night of the deepnesses,
the house of the chill and the sound of the quiet,
the house of the lost, of the dark and the white and the blue and the night and the dust and the you
he found there, amid the sound of snowdrifts and silence he found there, where gathered ashes scatter
he found the emptiness, the nothingness, the house of the iron lamppost,
the house of womb of the dawn, he found there
and so he wanders…