The four points of the compass meet in the future

A final shadow closes my eyes
Unchaining my soul in a mortal hour
But beauty will never die

Life will spread from star to star
Like a magical pollen, and I will whisper
Poems for immortal hours
Descendants carry God in their hearts

Just the goodness of nature
Memory of love, war, swimming flame
Of seasons, struggle, sacrifice

Burning into the future with a will
For creation, for renewal, for innovation
Your body is in the memory of my bones
But these bones will be washed into the water

Like dust, as will yours, but progress
Is a melody of sunshadow layered
From mind to mind until consciousness

As in the whiteness of still water
Carries forth flowers that never forget
A respiration of intelligence
A light of quantum conversation that

Is answered by galactic eyes
Evolution stripping the futility
Of her limitation of symbol

Her immaturity of imagination
The goal being a written silence that sings
A tongue of rain, a sign of the reverse of life
A big-bang of terraces at dawn
A lonely place where we all meet.

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AGNES CECILE
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