Our time here is always brief
a spark between two endings

the poem within the tome
on an empty shelf

a darkened room

the basement of a large mansion
tucked away among the hills
that begin to show the age

of the bedrock below
from which they spring

incessant droplets
of water
erode Everest
over eons

I will find you again
though it might not be
this next round

or the one after that
nor the next

Know that

the sadness you’ll feel
at night looking up
at planets and dreams undone

is the hole
of us

the gap between
beginnings

I will hold you here
until then

© Carlos Chagall, 2013