Embers

I held sundrenched embers
Where the garden never grew.
I miss the years we will not share;
I miss all that never was.

When we bid our souls adieu
Under winter dawn so gold,
The world will turn without thee.
Other worlds wither, but thine?

Skies clear, then skies are grey.
A touch of stars, then the rain:
No different to those who fly,
But I am still with sculptured sails.

Kiss my wounds—one kiss
Will you grant me it?
Why will not the moon pull apart?
It is dust without your dreams.

***
I could not breathe—you showed me how.
Now where breath cannot find me,
I am blessed by a distant vault.
Faces in the ceiling, nearly smiling.
Another dusk; a light. Another aurora.
Seas turn and seas dissolve.
No home and no void. Only distance
In the darkness, without sight
I will die for two.

Find me in the hills.
In my repose,
I lay crying
With dead candles surrounding.

© 2018 Marten Hoyle