MadameBastet-Firing-Neurons

Life,
the Way They Said it Would Be

I could love even these gods
so grand and final in their cruelty.

You want the silence of worlds unknown
the memories of lives unlived
black hole universes and womb-like salvation.

I lost so many hopes in this darkness
and so many days.

I try to hang on. At stoplights and street corners
but this grind is a beastly creature
so insistant with its coffee spoons and cocktail voices.
And smiles, long and lovely across crowded, lonely rooms
here is infinity it says;
memento mori.

What will the silence of eternity sound like?
Like shadows long and warm and falling slowly
to caress the pale facades of buildings at dusk...
the smoky, yellow leaves shifting in the chilly autumn
breeze...
and snow that drifts down to balance lovingly
in the aching arms of trees?

It will sound like trees that sway in lonely colonnades
between flickering street lamps and brick-faced bars;
it will sound like the last and final highway in the desert night
the stillness of nowhere after the whoooosh of the last, solitary
car

It will sound like the smooth, velvety voice of the singer
that you never knew
who sang to you sad lullabyes through so many years
from a place somewhere far and deep and wide
the watery depths
of your very final tears.