My loss of words was an untimely darkness
when a late lightning like a desperate bolt
showed your island for my sinking boat
too late in a forgotten night of the universe.
Now my shiver numbs down in an echo
of silence and it bloats me and traps me
and makes me sink.
Sinking, singing, singeing, seeing
you were that distant island maybe
or maybe not? Because Zeus did a hideous
trick, separating
you from me or maybe you from me
or maybe you from me or maybe you from me.
We will be both searching amidst
almost 8 thousand millions of souls.
We’ll spend the rest of our lives dying
for the wrong ones, searching
or pretending we’ve found each other,
when I know you’ll still be that island
found in the lightning, lost in the darkness
into the spark of a moment, into the loss of my words.
We’ll be happy, won’t we? Won’t we be happy?