Eulogy: On Our Urgent Plane

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I do not want to watch you sink, Into the waters, unknown, of my callous breach Quiet with silent screams, dying, to my dismay, From an invalid love not allowed, not foreseen, to be What it is, what it was, on our urgent plane.

Crying with dry tears to toss you a lifesaver Made of stone, droning in my own blind suicide, Pitiable as the first crash into the equation Sup the already festering variable of this varying Decay, declining the patter on our urgent plane.

And it was, the divine childhood you evoked in me, The scent of fresh apple cores, sitting on rolling hills Until my sight met yours, then all is changed Into the plunging grasp of passion, so tightly wound Around the wound of yesterdays on our urgent plane.

Till tomorrow, I shan't forget the ardent simplicity Of a devotion dreamed, and then dreaded, Wasted away in the untimely cave of a second's indecision But depth, and all depth, remains in the string that binds To your agony and mine on our urgent plane. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .