| What would be the use in becoming
|
| A symbol of walking desolation?
|
| Awash in multiple griefs
|
| Elaborating on anguish
|
| What glows beneath? |
| (Beneath all the pain and anguish)
|
| Love that doesn’t die (Magma embroidering)
|
| «Love,» a small word
|
| Unable to hold
|
| While we stretch at its meaning
|
| Now this:
|
| What’s this new version of love that intrudes
|
| Into the peace I thought I had?
|
| This love has no recipient
|
| But still lies there smoldering
|
| Indifferent stars in the night sky
|
| Watch me while I churn
|
| Still holding this love for you
|
| Without a thing to do
|
| But try to live
|
| In this uninvited liberation
|
| Without a home in your life or heart
|
| Without a shelter at all
|
| Exposed and burning still
|
| This unattended fire
|
| For no one emanates a wasted warmth on the wind
|
| Pushing against the edges
|
| Of what it means to give
|
| Lost wisdom in sparks that rise and die
|
| Even if I never get to see you again
|
| I’ll know that when we collided
|
| We both broke each other open
|
| Rose petals were blustering
|
| And I’m determined still to hold this open door
|
| Even now as it devastates
|
| I wake up gasping in the void again
|
| Speak sky, blow breaths
|
| Exhale to dissipate
|
| The always gathering clouds
|
| Of yearning memory
|
| Of all that we foresaw
|
| Laid out before us, unlived
|
| Dropped from a height
|
| Back into the open ocean, it’s all horizon
|
| This sky mirroring emptiness
|
| Is where I first found you |