Letter — Until It Reaches the Sky

On the hill where the pine keeps watch,
a man is writing.
He sets down the weight of a heart
that words cannot carry.
Longing becomes a letter,
grows invisible wings,
and lifts toward the high sky.
The moon agrees to be its address.
The pine becomes the messenger
of what runs too deep to say.
The sky writes back in moonlight,
and folds his longing inside.
The things he could not speak
become letters without shape now —
somewhere between sky and earth,
turning, slowly,
into something that will never be sent
and never stop being written.