(...)

(…)

Between these fires and our home
Is a bridge we cannot cross,
Where in vain our spirits roam
To what never was: our greatest loss.

Ah! Alone with sky and sea,
We see the dying of the day;
As all we thought was meant to be,
The flame is borne away.

Alas! My voice calls out to thee
And begs, ‘What light is there to shine?
For though the stars look down on me
These are no flames of mine.

‘And thou who, like the sea, doth roll
O’er my bones may take these sands,
Ah thee! I leave thee now my mortal soul
Within thy god-like hands.

‘And I, was I as well thy doom,
Though all the world be slain?
And who shall rise from out the tomb
Who dares to meet again?

‘And what comes now I cannot bear!
Is this the prize for which we prayed:
To lie by the sea and share
A world of voids and shade?

‘Are we at one with sea and sky?
Is this the home we thought would be?
What home will take me when I die,
And what sun will smile on thee?’

This I cried as the sea took the sand
And thou gifted no reply,
But looked out o’er the strange, dead land
And wept into the sky.

And thy hand I took in mine own
To kiss the flesh that binds thee
And we stood quiet and alone
And watched the rolling sea.

© 2021 Marten Hoyle