To The One Who Left Poem by Joshua Aube

After a long holiday, you take the train
At five past five.
The green fields turn brown and the sparrows feed
In pairs.
It is so silent, it makes the trees outside my window
Wonder.
Under the galloping hoofs of time and space
Identities crumble.
But the creaking of the old window
Will complain over and over again.
And the guitar strings - they will sound in harmony
Forever.
I do not know if the mirror can pull up distances
Unknown.
But sometimes, in the stained mirror I can see your face
In mine.
Long ago, watching the ants line up to their home in a tree,
I fell asleep
I skipped a thousand generations and am born in the same world
As you.

Dear, it is not like the crooked hills wearing away,
Slowly.
Nor like the logs that burned during my last rites
To ashes.
It is not like the sound of a call dying away in the wind
Of the seas.
It is like nothing else other than the vigil of the stars,
Endless -
Sleepless -
My love,
My dear!