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(…)

In towering oceans of the autumn skies
The hues of twilight in your eyes—
Below these stars that kiss the trees,
Where will you sleep—among the leaves?

I am not yet known to be born,
Save that I have grown old…

And my heart was alive when I saw you
Dream upon a pearl—so like the dew:
Little tears that shine in a sun of glass
In the memory of frost upon the grass.

I cannot see, I cannot dream
Only in the hues of the snow…

There was mist among the stars,
And the ghosts all were ours,
On the wings of the butterfly
Sailing on the breath of goodbye.

O! to be undone—to be undone
With the shattering of the blooms.

We were not lost in the speech of fire,
That kissed the world; kissed the world entire—
But lost was I in the drifting of the birds
Whispering upon the sea of your words.

Kissed by all you have ever said to me,
I recall myself in another life, by your side.

I want to know which life found you:
What heart was born to meet anew?
The snow is born, the pale suns sleep
While the shrouded forms about us weep.

The snow is born, the snow is born…
Beyond, our seasons await us.

© 2021 Marten Hoyle