WHEN TIME CEASES

We are the remnants of another age.

That’s why I cannot speak

of home, or death

or preordained pains.

Not one illicit digger so far

has found the walls between us,

or the chill in the bones

in the remnants of all the ages.

When time ceases,

then we’ll talk about the truth

and the fireflies will form constellations

on our foreheads.

Not one false prophet

foresaw the shattering of a glass

or the touch of two palms –

two great truths, from which

clear water flows.

We are the remnants of another age.

Like wolves in the sights of eternal guilt

we are withdrawing

into the landscapes of tamed solitude.