You are the night, heron I am…
“Ok, imagine a lake – very still, clear as glass, no ripples. Little fires burn all around the lake… and as night falls the full harvest moon rises into the September sky. Wood smoke drifts up to the stars…
On the lake, a boat, and on the boat, a huge paper heron, a lantern all lit up with electric light. And from the boat the sound of the gamelan – the saron – fades into the distance as the boat is rowed towards the far shore.
We watch this, looking down through the trees… and we see… the Night Heron…
You are the night, heron I am… over the silver moonbeam plated lake our eyes swam southwest to find the full moon. And I still believe we can moor our boat to the farthest shore – listen to our hearts and the gamelan, pure and right inside us…
You are the night, heron I am… and even if there is a stone’s throw between us south and north still still together alone, entwined and like and being, our sweetest dna flowing between us around and through… you’re coming with me I’m coming with you…”