I have this nightmare of dawn
Transfixing nigh ever, save the most recessed pallor
And her deliberate texture and dimension in implacable revelation are won
In the same manner of fashion that lightning is misunderstood:
It longs not for the warm embrace of substance or sentry,
But in the exigencies of volatile elegance
Seeks only to arrive.
Ramified by circumstance.
So, at long last, certain things are apparent -
The fabled cities, loved ones, and meanings in translation we've lost
Continue to search the absence unknowingly for us
As, to them, it is only we who have disappeared.
And we carry on in our presumption that we are divided by nothing.
Topic(s) of this poem: loss