Returning from the Hard City of Civilization

From the green lushness of the hidden
Language between us
That not time or dialect can separate
I return to you, my last holy city

Where I am called upon to dance
The mountains while the world crumbles
For I have a piece of paper
With your name on it, somewhere

In my heart, like a chance patriot
Of a country I used to call ‘love’
It’s vaster than these yearning words
It’s sweeter than these torn mattresses

Returning to Eden, I am no longer alone
But I live and die for another’s embrace
She calls my name in a foreign tongue
And I know that I have returned home

A straight same place of light and comfort
‘Return to the same place at eleven tomorrow night’
Thy will is done in me, in my service
Of all the yearning of my beloved belonging.