Vasudeva

The Ferryman 

At the edge of

       an equinox

balancing between

   night and day,

we hesitate.

A solstice

   of turning,

          calling

  moving

  towards

         a silence

where

unravelling

 we linger

between

the measured

        and

   the unknown

  moving

with fear,

towards  

a widening  

the unseen shore

held in darkness

and still

something pulls.

Perhaps

that is why

  we tremble

         not from loss,

but from nearing

what we are

not yet ready

to become.

There is no voice,

no sign,

         only

the still water,

         and the quiet 

of something

     waiting.

No fare asked

only the fear

we pay

   to cross

unseen