In the Beginning Was the Word

Sometimes, when the moment strikes
Most often, late at night
When the sky is storm-swept and lit up from the city, so many miles away, 
And the clouds are shining purple and gray and red 
Or when the wind is roiling like the sea, lifting branches on the breeze
The sky cobalt and black and deep 
I will lay down in the driveway, on my back 
And say the words of some famous quote or poem or song
That still goes on, through the long and winding years 
Some verse I've heard along my way and placed in my pocket for such a moment

Then I will wonder if whoever penned it, often long deceased in the hospitable dirt, the pillars of the earth
Somehow, somewhere hears me say it, beyond the grave 
And if they marvel still, after all these years
That they, too, are a part of the great, green ocean
And its endless dance of waves