Somehow fear has lost its only friend,
and doubt wanders aimlessly around the days.
Our friendship now should know no end,
how much sweeter days, for our knowing each other.
Days now seek my heart and mend my ways,
like two old lovers lost in one another.
If I might again be seen as a stranger,
what hopes upon the empty canvas should fall?
More mystery, than some empty danger,
close your eyes and dream again with your heart.
Listen, that you might hear fortune's call,
to see what favors love might impart.
The conversation, love's consolation,
begins the new dialogue, binding our obscurity.
A tale of silent words and of quiet elation,
we search for who we are to become, who we are.
In the quiet details of our hidden curiosity,
you are my secret light, my unseen star.
A quiet whisper in the morning mist,
a good day, dear friend, in early morning light.
Touch my hand, that I know I still exist,
to know I am who I am and so I might always be.
I am carried away in so many words I write,
a starry eyed dreamer on the starry sea.
Brian Francis Hudon
July 2, 2019
