An-Esthetic Lamentation

Forgive me
Loved ones

For leaving
Your leaves

Translucent
To the silver

Mourning mist
Time and time

A gain
When I return

To pinescent
Cold glass beads

Trickling down
On woven cords

Green like needles
That perish

And fall
Is arriving

And parting
Making love

Ache when it comes
And goes

I know
It was not meant

To be this way
To be soph aur

Nerve gates
Closed off

To your ever dying
Ever birthing

Gifts