A Prologue, running
Two thousand
And six hundred days.
It spanned across him, realisation.
Of the tale that had begun
In a quiet bower of snow.
It would be the road,
Never taken with her
That is most regrettable.
A sorrow, unyielding
It bleeded till none remained
A crevasse in their lives.
Filled with years
Of substitution, illusion
Of having someone else.
Her credence in him,
Biased, she persisted.
Aphrodite incarnate.
Seeking an Ares,
Futility, forgetting her Hephaestus.

Two thousand
And six hundredth day,
Now transcending to the next.
Self inflicted desertion,
Guilt of a re-established
Trust in the "once was a stranger".
Has ever the velvet
Loosened from the wrist?
A bond tied ages ago.
Eternity stands challenged
By days finally spent
Together, as one.
A final laugh,
The Universe, it's cheeks
Straining to the limits.
They, fire and smoke
Never apart; for smoke shall
Still rise from a dead pyre.
The prologue has brought
Nought but the turn-

The arrival of their final Epilogue.