Until We Meet Again

“Until We Meet Again”

Sew my dreams into your seeds.
Such harvest eternal feeds
Bright fires like a rage…
And when you turn the page
There is writ in lines between
What was said and what has been
The old passage that the skies recite
Between the ghosts that kiss the night—

It is a tale as old as time has passed.
As it was the first word, it too shall be the last.
Do you hear the whisper of this night unbroken,
With the echo of the word unspoken?
It is a silence that the first man heard
And the last man shall hear the word
From far horizons beyond the celestial sea
At the dawn of what new life shall be—
The dusk that was, the dust of yours
To the waves of calamitous shores
Where not that dwells was thine,
For thy fate perhaps was mine.

And if you should close the ancient tome,
The sign of the word will guide you home
Where I shall wait, though all words fail
Though thy voice falter and thy lips grow pale—
I will wait for a word spoken in the blushing of the lily
To be haunted by your specter only—
To hear your voice as it was written, and read,
So it is spoken, and so it was said—
This my will to hear the trumpets of that daybreak
When all the dead awake
And we meet again in a book of leaves, sepulchral
As we die anew to waken immortal.

© 2022 Marten Hoyle