Dashed
June 16, 2009
19:20

When all that we have done,
When all that we will be
is gone--
then what does that leave here for me?

A battle that will boil,
A war whose heroes will rot
and spoil--
with all the helplessness that we have fought.

When I have been dully hit,
My heart struck out upon
and split--
I still will not have won.

I search in vain under the moon,
I look away from its stare
too soon--
for I will find no answers hidden there.

The truth pauses, lingers
The mouth opens, quotes
like fingers--
their meanings tiny and remote.

I know as longings are overcome,
That then our breaths will fade
as one--
an inconsequential retrograde.