What bitter, horrid irony...
That after aeons washed away,
As now we stand before the end of time,
Your eye, at last, met mine.
A million years it could have been
In all the space that severed us.
For how could I have known?
That all it took, were but the dewdrops in my eyes,
To seal away my cries,
And siphon your divinity.
I never got to fathom...
Nebulae encircle still your maelstrom of duality,
That swallowed up a million stars,
In thousandfold.
For all the years I've gazed at you,
And you had never met my eyes.
Yet as the end of all unfolds,
And you'll at last depart,
No longer must I shed a single tear for you.
Shatter my heart,
But let it end.
What choice have I possessed?
But to lay my curse upon your wake,
You pinwheel of the south...
For after all,
The sky shall eat us both.
But a footnote
In someone else's history.