Galaxies Away

12. A Toast

"A toast,"
Our wine glasses
clinked together
releasing a sound
resembling shimmering
moon dust.
"A toast,
To being alone."

And Every year
is a new
footprint
I indent
in polished grains
of sand.
I step lightly,
my worries lost
into the breeze.

Something fuzzy
is accumulating.
Fuzzy and puzzling,
yet resplendent.
It was the calm.
The serenity in the choirs,
the harmony of the wind.
Celestial sounds
of the earth taking its
course
round and round
the everlasting sun.

I was drunk,
my legs grew weak,
and they would bend,
inward,
outward,
like a crooked man.
My footprints
were jagged.

"A toast,"
I bent my head back,
Bottoms up!
And down my throat poured the-

Rain!
It's raining,
I can't stand straight.
So I sit until it passes.
As the lightening struck my back bone.
I twitched.
My bones shattered.
My limbs collapsed
and suddenly I fell into-

His arms.
He was warm.
He kept me walking
steady.
My words were jumbled.
My footsteps crossed
each other.
But he had my waist
and I had his shoulder.
And he led me home.

"A toast,
To being alone."
And alone I did
amble
across the open
shore.
My lips kissed the edge
of life, for bare seconds.

Until I toast
no more.
And I walked steady now.
Life is here.
It holds me
in it's arms.