The cities so far below,
misted and uncertain,
like a puzzle tossed carelessly.
And we stood together,
you and I,
and talked of long histories made when the sky was newborn,
and names had not been breathed into being,
there was no direction we did not see,
could not see,
so the fall,
when it came,
and without warning.
The view of who is good and who is bad,
is largely decided by where you are standing when the world explodes,
for black and white are only shades.
With heart and hands of stone I dug,
through the plains and caverns,
the high places and lowest of the low,
always hoping for a token,
and sliver of you left as a levee,
to hold against the tidal wave of knowing,
that would surely come,
and rend me,
into the void,
with that last question still clinging to my open mouth,
as a sunset holds with desperate fastness to the shore,
until the waters drown it.
Never is a long time.
Never is a vast desert with sterile skies
and only the music of the dunes to listen to.
I lifted my eyes at the end of it all,
to meet yours,
your eyes still,
although strange and hardened by the ground you anchored to,
and leaned into that unnamed wind
wordless and begging
and your mouth barely moved as you said,
“You will never forgive me for falling, will you?”
and I whispered,
“No, I will never forgive you for leaving me behind.”
And then I too