The Three Trysts

Missing someone through the distance of time and space.

What binding cord ties us through the distance?
Might it be Our Lord, in whom I try trust
And through whom I have suffered these boundaries?
Yet, each petal falling has its tree;
Even you, Angel, have a certified post in Heaven's Halls -
I shall not sully nor separate you from a grander destiny
Than my arms, be those against or with you.
The fight harbours our blood – divisible
Between two; and equal to five memories,
Formed through my future synthesis,
For madness gives birth in my soul
To daughters, simultaneously to the youth in my mind.
Your youth, I am not mistaken.
And I carry your confidence, too.
When we have parted, that something inside
Me leaps and squeals, and the three
Trysts carve a trilogy of sorrows:
Past, present, future,
Those missing their dual creator,
Be he Created in his own flesh-filled desires.
But you played Ambition, and took Her hand;
I was Family, with only Jealousy to understand.
What natural symmetry – not perfect: natural –
We have stolen from our Creation
Of a burning skyline lit with trees,
All flame-tops scarring the ever-blue
And swaddling the sea of green, useless.
What jarring chord joins us through my distance?
An agony cry – it is your voice, the final slice of your
Heart tucked within mine;
A third part of our mutual past
I have, and will have, forever carried in yearning mind.

The End

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