To Unknown Gods

When all is well and silent,
our friend shall meet you
in your faraway places,
down the river’s edge

When you look out over the wandering horizon
you’ll never find the end
She’s always one step ahead of you
pulling you towards the end

And for a moment,
the silken wind echoes something
you thought you knew before
only to leave you longing

A passing whisper
the memory of lover’s touch
beneath this tree in the night
the leaves like stained glass

A big oak cathedral
to the way things were
a hollow altar
to the love shared in the midnight wind

When all is empty allegiance
you’ll show them your bruises
and the night will whisper back
‘what matter is it to you?’

A look into the mirror
will confirm your suspicions
you’re not who you thought you were
wholeheartedly another creature

Maybe it’s not far to go at all
but we might be frozen, stone
stuck in the rising Sunday,
memorials to our quarrels

When all is well and silent
it will be because we’ve become
altar stones to unknown gods
and the argument has finally ceased
by force

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