Dayless, as we are.

I feel a great enchantment
bearing down upon me
lately, and though its
weight is nearly stifling
I couldn't imagine
a lovelier way
to have learned your name.

The First,
you call yourself,
some immortal balance
of age
and spirit,
blood
and teeth,
left
and right,
too exhaustively right.

I think to myself
where have you been,
these thousand years
I've lived
as I have lived,
breathing in synchronization
only with ghosts,
livid and sweet?

And I think to myself,
afraid of such incandescence,
it may have been
a millennia,
a vast stretch
of dry, barren waste,
since we've kindled
together,
but my bones,
they know
better.

Has it,
could it have been
and endless fable,
between us?
A pyre
so bright,
so alive with
mind,
fervor,
the cluttered veins
of all we have been,
that even the limbs
from this Earth
could never fully quench it?

My breath
holds tight in my chest,
waiting silently
to watch
as we crack,
desperate and deep,
into another
life.