I dreamt you twice last night,
like all other times,
without reason
Still,
I loved you in them
over and over
the way I do across all my hours;
for there is not a moment
when you do not cross the threshold of my being
like a strand of light travelling through eons,
through the coldness of space,
piercing shadowed worlds
defining the contours of the vague silhouettes
dancing in my soul
But this is all you are now:
light and memory—
an ethereal reverie
lingering quietly between two notes,
burning lowly in perpetuity this side of glory
Still, I love you
though the years have made it cold
your absence,
your void—has made it so
Still, I love you
though time itself has eschewed why
Maybe,
if only for a moment
you were cause for me,
a joie de vivre,
a nod to a higher state,
a fortuitous being per accidens
the discovery of every single colour;
a promise of arrival in a world unmoored
condemned to freeze,
world without end
C. Alberto
