The Edge of Heaven
The drums beat.
A shaman
rises up
in a magnificent spiral dance
above the clouds.
In his ecstasy,
he burns with the energy of birth,
the imagination of a child.
The moon appears
over the cloudscape
its glory overshadowing
the small tribal fire which burns below.
The moon pulls him.
His eyes never leave her wondrous face.
Closer.
He reaches out to touch
and his hand penetrates the light
like a pebble in a golden pool.
As his face nears the edge of heaven,
the drums stop!
He tumbles back to earth
with a beam of moonlight in his hand.
His dance has ended,
the fire dies
and the moon seems so far away—
Tomorrow night
the drums will beat again
and he will dance.
Once more
he will reach out to the moon
to feel her warmth;
and with luck
he will feel
the gentle brush of her lips.
