Tell them I have gone away.
Far past the midnight call
past the mansions I've been promised,
past the fallen wall.
To a place of which I'm curious
Of dreamers lovers and saints
Of the ever-calling siren
Of the traveler's worn down staves
I thought of the convenience of the faceless
and all the wisdom I seem to lack.
For all I want is to touch her beauty,
and for her beauty to touch me back.
So I put my hand across the sheets
to try to hold her hand.
As ruined and separate as ships at sea
come no nearer to the sand.
But the gracious wind calls me back
she whispers after me.
And we burn our sails with steadfast eyes
like two lovers lost at sea.
She has fallen asleep
with her head against my chest.
Will you tell them I have gone away?
Unto to the city of rest.
END.
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