Away in the distance the sun did cry

Long spouts of flame and bronze. No one noticed.

And I sat down on rock and ant to watch.

An opening of black, rectangular,

Appeared upon the blue, the light above;

An aged man slid in a box of time,

Imprinted with the faces of a life.

The cries that came down from the sun ended,

Cut short by transmutation of the sky.

The static of the screen began to roar

Until the tranquil bath of cold unwound

Into a faded, injured memory.

Some lightning ink did seep into the cracks,

But did not cover up the pictures of

My family, so browned by age and dust,

Yet vibrant in the color of their cheeks.

My skull, especially around my eyes,

Began to feel as though apart, above.

A vacuum ripped within my head did suck;

The goggles made of analog and tape

Presented me with false memorials

That held more truth than all our poisoned tongues.

“Please listen close,” the footage said out loud

Perhaps to me, perhaps to someone else.

Whatever was the case, I paid my mind

And saw my youth unfurl on dragon-spine:

A sail to take us down the doldrum route

And on into the open sea ahead.

My brother stands within my reach, so young,

His shoulders covered, freckled all about.

Are we the only ones upon the ship?

A whisper from the Northern Wind assents.



Cartography, a later time, did set

Us on a course along the tomb of men

Who tried before what we now must attempt.

I will not see the end result. For you

Have left, and I have gone, and we are old

And frail. My brother, my brother, what happened here?

Best friends eternal, or until the sound

Of pounding waves and broken backs does scare

Away, or reel us in; I wish the choice

Was ours to make in unison. Oh friend.

There was no shock, but rather just a fade.

The film had stopped, and I was on rock

And ant. The sun still cried, the ocean sang

And nothing in the world around had changed.

But fat blue tears did dry upon my cheek.

The opening of black was gone, just dust

Of stars and maybe also of the bond.

But now my back does ache, my stomach growls,

And time has come to disremember all

That I once saw played out upon the sky

Like dreams of God, or hopes, the dead and tired.

And even now with features paved ‘til smooth

By metal sheets of progress, I can see

A little boy, a pacifist, not scared,

But ready for the coming end of dawn.