266 and 267

Your song came on today, but not out loud,

just quietly, to me, just in my head.

So, to it, all alone, I softly bowed,

to mourn the songs that live, but shan’t be said.

‘tis six months since I sang it last for you,

and six months yet until I shall again.

How many soft reprises shall accrue

until it settles in one last amen?

Why are some dreams so vivid? e’en the ones

that should have been concluded long ago?

Your burial should not stay with your sons

as long as this. Where did my healing go?

Is this what meddles age? Collected loss?

Are these the fibers that make up the cross?

~~~

The sun was great, much greater e’en than now,

inflamed by greater elements within.

Deep red, no longer orange, what with how

its stores of hydrogen were wearing thin.

But humankind, these billion years from now,

were dancing in the streets and on the hills.

Their wars, and wars, and wars had taught them how

not ire, but joy could conquer all their ills.

And science knew the eve of death was now,

but had no hold upon the hearts of men.

Destruction was a given, just like how

a newer good would always rise again.

So, so they sang so sweetly on their grave,

no longer to their hateful hearts a slave.