Salute to the Moon

It takes a mere lungful of sea
to drown for all eternity;
one could perish countless times
in one small bay.
Either way, there would be
no returning.

To signal the approach of night
takes just one star -
one spark of the celestial
all lovers need to wish upon.
Does it make a whit of difference,
loving one lumen or many?

I have fallen for the Moon,
irrevocably.

Words are lost a million times
before they even reach the sea,
a trillion on their passage
to the galaxy, the shores of stars,
the mountains of the Moon and Mars,
the voids we cannot calibrate.

How can love desire
a different fate?

And yet with him a single night
makes contact with infinity,
becomes an aperture in time
through which the aeons pass,
the sky a bridge between two lives,
the pulse of moments magnified,
in synchrony with iridescent
stellar clouds and nebulae,
each breath the birth of constellations,
Moon resting between our palms
as we drink in the vision of the Cosmos
from Olympus Mons.