I did not own the night
when the waves
broke on the rocks.
The moon fell into the waters
like a crystal ball
and the splinters came floating to me.
I did not own the moon when you  sang,
with no break till the dawn.
I did not own the beach
when with lilting steps the girls danced upon the waves..
The morning waited with patience behind the hill.
I did not own that hill.
You brought a crate of beer
and the stars came down on the floor
drunk on the elixir of love.
I did not own that love.
You saw me distraught
over the unheard melodies
when the universe was singing
right in front of me.
And I was distraught that I did not own the universe.
I wanted to stop the outpouring of the verse
flowing ceaselessly out of the harp.
How could I stop it?
I did not own the harp.
After every pause, you took up the song,
and I followed because I did not own the song.
A snake charmer went on and on with the magical strain,
And I dropped exhausted; I gasped because now you whistled
some unheard melody between the notes of the song.
Before I could pick up the words, the whistling stopped.
I could not own the words.
That night, that moon, that song,
that sea and that crate of beer,
that harp and the whistle and the wind
are still somewhere in the space,
and this eternal thirst in me
that I could own none of those things.