At last she comes, o never more,
in this dear patience of my pain,
to leave me lonely as before,
or leave my soul alone again.
(At last, alone again.)
In this deep silence no one stirs,
even the wind, she holds her breath.
The empty echo now assures
my quiet comfort, calm as death.
(In this, as calm as death.)
This book I write holds still the dance
and deafening din of tales recalled.
Please crack this spine, and break this trance!
Lay siege to this heart in which I'm walled.
(At last I dance again.)
A silverfish swims through a sea of frozen words.