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.