In this lifetime, not the next,
I want to hear the wind speak
a poetry strong enough to bring
all things together that were apart,
a language powerful enough to move stone
gargoyles and brass angels to tears,
to bring a few more dreams
to the dead who’ve lain so patiently
with only the rain or grief
for entertainment. Let us have
no enemies then: let us flash the white
flower of a smile between us, absolve
each other’s debts before the bridge:
fragile, improbably lovely, that
necklace of steps strung
over the abyss.
In response to Via Negativa: Skeptic.