I contemplate All the heavy weights Of a hundred years in the undertaking Of a life without knowing What it means to take a breath Beside the great movement to another's chest. She has lost her sight, Though has granted me, my own. I am shielded by my own mourning. A storm of tears falls through the glass shards Between my fingers. She loves without a breath, For she truly belongs with death. She lays, with fingers stabbed into mountains. She calls From a mouth that does not sigh, Me to the ruby lips. I aim to kiss For nothing felt Of warmth, to the cooled lips Of a thousand glaciers. I mourn For what has been born. A love for a centuries Given to me, Passed from me Like blood-red sand Through an hourglass. I dream for what must gleam, Being my heart, being what cannot start In the beat of a thousand more Without her love to reach for.