Because we lived our several lives
Caught up within the spells of love.....
We did not hear, beneath our lives,
The old walls falling out or true,
Foundations shifting in the dark.....
.....For years we lived at peace, until
The rooms themselves began to blend
With time, and empty one by one,
At which we knew, with muted hearts,
That nothing further could be done,
And so rose up, and went away,
Inheritors of breath and love,
Bound to that final black estate
No child can mend or trade away.
I am so caught in the spell of love of the beauty of this world, that it does seem as if it just can't be true that the wall of our bodies and lives fall down, unable to be repaired in any frantic penultimate attempt. So what is left then is to claim only what is ours, this moment, full of breath and love.
In this dark January morning, I wonder, is it enough? For me? For you? What about us together, sharing the same decaying space. When the walls come down is then when love may give voice to our hearts?