Let us go hence: the night is now at hand;
The day is overworn, the birds all flown;
And we have reaped the crops the gods have sown;
Despair and death; deep darkness o'er the land,
Broods like an owl; we cannot understand
Laughter or tears, for we have only known
Surpassing vanity: vain things alone
Have driven our perverse and aimless band.
Let us go hence, somewhither strange and cold,
To Hollow Lands where just men and unjust
Find end of labour, where's rest for the old,
Freedom to all from love and fear and lust.
Twine our torn hands! O pray the earth enfold
Our life-sick hearts and turn them into dust.

Ah Sun-flower! weary of time.
Who countest the steps of the Sun;
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the travellers journey is done.

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale ****** shrouded in snow:
Arise from their graves and aspire.
Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.

I used to know you intimately
                ultimately
                innately

you were an idea fed and bred within my mind
constantly growing, constantly transforming

recognition of the structure of your face
brought about the most diverse array of connotations

now it seems the threads are gone
the ways your mouth curves into a smile means nothing to me

your gate is merely a walk
your voice is barely a set of vibrations

it is strange how time can heal
                erase
                numb

finally, I am indifferent

You know the day I died
I never ventured far from home
I never performed miracles
I never went to Rome
You know me through the stories
The disciples told my tale
I am surprised that I am famous
But at one thing I did fail
I don't think that I am holy
By some, but I am known
By different names by different groups
This, history has shown
You know me from the bible
Yes, I died upon the cross
But, when asked just what my real name is
Then most are at a loss
I was crucified, a true fact
My beliefs cost me my life
I died there in the sunshine
My story filled with strife
I know you think you know me
But, do you really know
That at my crucifixion
I was the first one in the row
Like I said, I am as famous
As the middle one who died
I knew you would not guess me
No matter how you tried
My name, it is Saint Dismas
I am the thief just to the right
Jesus Christ was in the middle
He was full of heaven's light
I am known in all the stories
Like I told you once before
I'm known as the good thief
I am known in all the lore
I died the same as Jesus
I died the same as he
Luke called me Saint Dismas
Now you will remember me

Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

My heart explodes.
But not in divine agony
or with one defiant bang.
In pulsing bursts
that are either too heavy
or too light to comprehend.
You squeeze me tighter
to level them into patterns
and restrain the danger you've created.
And somewhere along the way
my brain feels the vibrations
and calls it love.