And I will be here with those dry tears
May the places be glorious,
around us everywhere. The
places that are green and
sweet and young. But notorious
is this world and so one day
it will all be gone. One day
when I am away, the birds
no longer sing, and the dogs
don’t stop to bark- but still
linger the footsteps in
the places that I’ve been.
The trees and me have
breathed, only the same air
for years and years, and we
will still when I am away. For
it is the gust that stays
and never fades. The breath
took before each death
passes through each and every
body. Every dead is alive
and carried through all. All the
paper in the world will have been
used by the time I am away. And
I am away but I will be here
by the trees who have shared
The rocks- which have been walked
over millions of times, are mine. And
as young as they are, they keep
slivering away until nothingness, unless
chosen by a particular, who
shall not age it. At their oldest
the rocks are only the dust that
forms at the bottom of this world.
Being the small.
When I am away
all of the rocks will be
sitting dust at the bottom which
somehow never fades.
And I am away but I
will be here, at where the rocks
were, with the one I had chosen.
And the floor of the buildings-
colored and old, is crushed with
no force. The talk of the world
will destruct it all. And every one of
those locks will fall from the doors,
and become ancient to those who
no longer know combinations. The
tile will have cracked to create
the mosaic that was thrown out.
And the oldies who had a pout
will walk upon it until it is dust.
But it is the dust which never fades
because although, I am away
I will be here with my combination-
to hear the commotion everyday.
The bed where we lay every
night will fall underground, and we will
all be forced to wake and see the early.
And it is the slight brightness of the sky
of the winter night, which makes the mind
cry those dry tears of wishing for the light
in the sun.
And it is those dry tears which
remember it all for us.
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