By the river-form,
cupping the forgotten grace of a moment
dreaming of beauty for the final time.
Magic used to reside here.
Steady your feet ahead of these jagged stones:
they reel and capture and rip open
our numerous, swollen despairs.
Ashes, minerals, a burning hope
fell inside the human heart
a prophet linked the chambers of fire
by example, and words were weighted like Silence.
In disappearing, Hope burnt expectantly in doorways.
But the doorways remained open, promising and still.
Then the night sky drew a more formidable canvas
on which we might paint
-and it was then we saw the end of time.