Will you smile when we meet?
Will you carry me
far away,
from the melancholy strings,
the wistful tears?
What secrets your embrace could tell,
in silence I would imagine.
You know me,
and though I'm loathe
to appear so foolish,
curiosity hath bought your face
before my eyes
on every day and
sleepless night,
while I ponder what it means
to stand on the edge of the plane
of all that is,
while the breeze of an angel's breath
rocks me forward,
past return,
with only a fleeting glance over my shoulder,
to remember and comfort,
in an instant too short to ask
whether the void is oblivion.