Now tell me there is a pause
Of where the world bends, and we Begin –
The ferries of the best twilights
That were people, half-bloomed
.
Before they cross the river ahead
Each person brings us a symbol
Of the world, like corn and half-blown sunflowers
That dangles in the reaching out
.
That might have never been, since
The wind-burned pastures don’t always
Have much to show, a few smiling memories
That good advice that haunts us till our end
.
Now tell me there is a pause
To the affections that do not last –
What someone in their wisdom might have meant
In reference to their imperfect knowledge of us?
.
There is a strange afterlife, to lovers
And a peculiar premonition of strangers
Now tell me there is a pause
Of where we begin, and the intersection
Through the fretwork of our ghostlike biographies.
Wuji Seshat 