In darkest vale where arms no longer hold me,
I write to light with words that fail to sing.
Don't waste them wringing warmth, a letter scolds me.
Time cannot linger where the heart might cling.
But how to climb above the grief of treasure
tossed back into the churn of swirling sea,
when memory's song repeats each precious measure
with echoed strands of night enfolding me?
I'll not begin to know till breathing ceases
and once again my love in light appears,
what comes when pain subsides and peace increases,
illumined, whole, in joyful joining tears.
Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other's eyes for an instant?......Henry David Thoreau