#1

[anightingale]

It is not that I seek Death,
tumult, thorns, or the waves
driven by love.
It is that without the
sparrows flocking, more in
number and volume, destruction,
and the tail end of love's affairs,
I would be without myself,
and thus you.
Without your faceless impermanence
I would not know rain.
Would not know freedom
or sorrow.
I would not know the name
which I cannot know.
It is sadness which holds
my ageless hands,
serpentine addiction
which coils Egyptian alabaster
round my beating heart, love
that fails.
I seek the end only
to begin seeking the
beginning, morning
and centuries.