A Greater Moon

by Gerald Warfield

In the end, a final breath.

No sight or sound, I think,

but the universe contained

within a single ebb and flow.

That breath,

totem of a greater tide,

joins its kin within

a single cosmic sigh.

For each life, one season,

and from its farthest ebb, no return.

No call of moon nor sun nor stars may rouse it,

singly, from its last retreat.

Yet upon the sea there are many tides,

and on the tides many waves

in turn that rise and fall and

clamor to be heard and not to die.

I am told

of a universe that expands,

and of a last retreat

from which there is no escape.

But perhaps the breath of life, once drawn,

does not exhaust itself

but joins again a greater tide,

summoned by a greater moon.

A wave, once dashed upon the strand,

does not rise and fall again.

yet join it must the tide that brought it thus

to end upon unyielding shores.

The universe expands;

the universe contracts.

Who is to say it is not called

by a greater moon

that summons tides on endless shores

where endless waves exhaust themselves

though singly rise no more.