do you remember one morning when it rained, chrysanthemums then lined the streets and each petal whirred to the sound of your passing?
you were too, a flower in my hand. deep underneath the ground you murmur, letting the twilight darkle into twinight. it was the dawn of your becoming. the sky’s panging brought you here.
you suddenly filled all the mouths that waited for you, with the marine of your name. because we were joined by haunts that revisit us in this river of life and that is why the unperturbed stone, the incongruent leap of water, the bodies that sprucely lay adrift with the fluminous ways of the world all know you and i because we are but from one source surrounding them in their laughter and silence when we are apart as though they cannot sing when we do not make music they cannot wake when they darkly wait for us in their homes, trembling with unlit lamps of dust and sleep they cannot lift in the moonlight when we strip them of their fear as though they cannot love in the midst of spring when we are but two separate leaves falling endlessly – finding each other in the Earth.