Sleep then, sleep among the stars
Dream of those days when your words replaced myth
Where all that you breathed, became the just so.

You created the coiled mornings,
And infused dust-filled days, that led
To evenings replete with quiet contentment.

What now is the purpose of a life without beauty?
What now is the purpose of a life without duty?
What now is the purpose of oblivion?

If you understand it, it’s not 'it' you have understood
The gap between melody and each second tone -
Resides in an absence beyond language.

We know this place through faded recreations of creation
The tides wash away faces drawn in sand
Only light need not hold any understanding, of time.

I meet ghosts who do not know they’re dead,
Who recite the poetry from the shade on the dial,
And know not from where, of a yet to come...

Of a wind that will blow dust from your throne,
And allow that cold magisterial, emptiness
To be filled again by your sublime sense of things.