Twisting and turning,
Like a sweet, unending melody,
On the lips of time,
A divine parody.
Melting in that brown gaze,
Like a an ember caught in a flame,
In burning fields of ice,
So much different, so much the same.
Like a walk in a waking dream,
There he was, like a god descended.
Twisting the fabric of time,
Playing again, a song I thought had ended.
The final blow to a dying man,
Like mercy, delivered too late.
His eyes wandered over me, questioningly.
And I sat just there, at heaven's gate.
A ravine separated us,
Uncrossable, unfathomable in its finality.
And yet, I saw him looking,
For a favor upon fate's venality.
A platter of what might have been,
Has been fortuitously served to me,
But why do I watch paralyzed?
Why does my heart foolishly fill with glee?
But here it is, the forgotten dream,
The lost beauty of it, beckons,
And I sigh, rooted.
Spent a second there, or eons.
Melting in that brown gaze,
In burning fields of ice,
My fumbling mind, in a daze,
Still wonders if speaking was wise.
