If only this stirred
In the deepest well of our heart:
That we will resume this moment
From wherever we abandon it.
Even death, so ceaseless in its pursuit of flesh,
Will grind us down only to our finest point,
As it is Eternity who holds us forever,
Death but the flutter of Her wing
That returns us through time and flesh
To the moment we last abandoned,
Where with heart purged of past
Toward the moments in turn
We’ll confront with a kiss
Or retreat beneath shadows
That bleed always in time
Back into the light.