And As Night Comes

Permanence is the goddess I pray to at night.
My hands clasp together under her moonlight veil gaze;
I grovel at her sandal-clad feet.
I know she’s yearning to leave yet leaving to mourn.
(Won’t you stay, Lady Permanence?)

Permanence finds no roots.
Yet I wish she would falter
and stroke my hair as I fall asleep.
               Oh, what am I?
A follower? A blind man? Not a companion.
Permanence is the goddess I pray to at night.

She places me amongst mausoleum faces
with scrupulous eyes and lets me
become a friend of mortal grass, leaves and moss.
But centuries later like a china doll,
I am plucked away by her willowy hands
               That’s enough, I think
(Won’t you stay, Lady Permanence?)

Breaths:
soft
               slow.
And tonight like any other, my deity turns to go,
taking my hands and leaving bitterly cold imprints.
Permanence is the Goddess I beg for at night.
“Won’t you stay, Lady Permanence?”