Upon wandering notes,
Taking elsewhere walks
Wrapped in a veil of vines,
Facing the blankness of a great evening
Where teeming sadness runs,
Motions a great sprint
To the places where arms collapse.
Upon the grief I keep,
Noting my eyes upon the sunlight
Blood churns in my heart
To the reverberations without silence,
For not a moment
Will clocks come undone of hands,
Held together, in the dance of time.
Up from coffins too heavy
With more soil than the form
Once held in rivers for the cleansing
Rust, into the earth,
Marking your withering step
As even traces embedded
In the grain.