Something

there is something

something that we cannot reach

or hold, or touch

constantly watching over us.

like the sun and the moon

like a loved one that is long gone;

like a mist made of cosmic dust

traveling beyond this world.

because the distant holds a quality

of merciless mystery

like the quietest of undertows

felt in the deepest of our bones.

it is something we pray to from afar

wishing that we could have near:

sometimes, a source of hope

at others, an unreasonable fear.

in the seaside, when we lay

lies a memory of what we miss

that moves us along the way

because longing is a bliss.

thus, we parade

unadvertedly in the haze

aiming towards the sky

while facing the abyss.