my heart retreats again
from this reality
defeated as something
that waited too long
to breathe
not knowing it was stillborn
before it reached
to meet the light

there is only a hollow now--
a dark and unceremonious
cavern of memorial
for what
cannot be remembered
anyway

and somewhere in a dream
the ghost of the heart
dances
with the ghost of optimism
that followed
on its heels

once the flower
that waited too long
to drink
until its mouth
shrivelled closed
and it could drink no more

now the lips that lick
the shine of stars
and drink the dew
perspired from the moon

somewhere in a dream
where how to love
need never be forgot
as unnecessary to it all
as how to drink
or breathe
and yet everything
that birthed the light
of Creation into life