Lacrimosus

Where am I now?
Eyes turned liquid,
fluid, then to dust.
Ancient tongues
no longer speak of love.
And you, with your world 
above and below you
 sit, flesh and silence.
And the dust, which
was my eyes, is swallowed
by the wind, his belly full
of sorrow.
Where am I now?
pleading with stoic muses
and celestial saints,
my tongue a ribbon and my
skin a blanket upon a river.
Styx.
The place where I once stood
vanished, it’s memory still 
fresh, and frightening
semblance, a specter.
And the wind, full of eyes, 
which are dust,
laughs.
And the ancients whose
tongues are not ribbons
sit silent.
And you with your world,
which is not mine, pull 
away at my touch.
And my lips do not
move, except to kiss.
And I do not cry, because
I no longer can. 
Without 
eyes.
The saints and muses,
both with wings,
cover the sky,
which is falling,
a feather,
a father,
farther away
then ever before
and once
again
the color
of sun
bleached
bones.

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