Song of the Point

When light descends into the deep,
the river bends and finds new ways —
yet still, against all odds, will keep
its water pure, as in first days.

When a name turns heavy, stone to bear,
the bird will leave its nest with grace,
yet still the song is in the air,
untouched by time, untouched by place.

Light your fires on the empty shore,
where winds still know your whispered name,
where stars remember evermore
the path you walked, the one you claim.

If the circle turns into a fair
of noise and glitter, hollow cheer —
seek the quiet flame kept there
in human hands, away from fear.

Do not argue with those who call
the night as day — just walk instead
where morning grass still breathes for all,
and truth is soft beneath your tread.

And when the sea restores its line,
let your boat return to the bay —
no sails renewed, yet still aligned
with the same wind that led your way.