An engraving of expansive gold,

and upon the gilded flatlands,

two bodies like small golden threads.
 
 

A glorious body that hears

and a glorious body that speaks

in a meadow where nothing speaks.
 
 

A breath that seeks another breath

and a face that trembles because of this

in a meadow where nothing trembles.
 
 

Remember the sorrowful past

when they both had time

and lived afflicted,
 
 

until the hour of the golden spike

when time persisted at their doorstep

like homeless dogs.
 
 
 
 

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Page last edited February 14, 2000
by: PhoneBoy