“Song of a Dying Soul”

My books collect my dust and live on shelves

Our pages mark the words of father’s feuds

How can I move along a stream today? 

I pray someday I’ll see dreams sweet and blue

My love, we share a soul, if not, warm air

this crimson heart, my falling skin, now old

our story’s death too close, too soaked and red

We hate the end but I am most at peace. 

For tribal aches inside the core of fruits

Divine, devoted lies--a poisoned cry

Untold and sealed and barred ‘til he arrives

Oh blind! We rest, we long but few do dare

One day our lives do pay a crooked price

So may I love and kiss and bear no fear? 

Shall dust collect and bones break in wasted time? 

The ticks we miss will haunt in death, in dark

These hands, now clasped, do pray, forgive and beg to stay

But none broken nor fallen may run away.