Having been dead for so very long,
There are no mysteries anymore,
No unimaginable solitude between
White walls, solid silences; no waste
Lands filled with stones as cold as
Death in the short hours between
Midnight and a dawn we cannot see.
We dreamed friends and lovers—
Deeper than the ocean, skies bluer
Than the sea, before all was lost,
By betrayal – and worse come morning.
Go to zero, stop beating, finally close.