Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from
the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself --
inside the dome of dark
or under the cracking white
of the moon's gaze in a valley of
snow.
Tonight as it gets cold
tell yourself
what you know which is nothing
but the tune your bones play
as you keep going. And you will be
able
for once to lie down under the small
fire
of winter stars.
And if it happens that you cannot
go on or turn back and you find
yourself
where you will be at the end,
tell yourself
in that final flowing of cold through
your limbs
that you love what you are.
