The auspicious chorus of birds announces your regnal arrival
at this hour, as the morning unrolls itself like a sacred scroll,
and everything around comes alive in her ancient symbols.
Trees, topped in ruddy hues, objects in this room, the tower
lamp, the mirror, the table, all joyously content in the glow
of their acquired aura. All strung together in a sublime hymn
sung in some tongue more archaic than phenomena, yet more
familiar than voices in the head. You stood here by my side,
golden mist spreading from your feet, but I remained asleep,
lost to morose worlds. You walked across into the living room
before vanishing into the abandoned well by the backyard.
Alas, I wake up smelling the scattered fragrances of your
silken footsteps. And I go tracing the peals of joy wafting
across these spaces, empty and mourning your departure.