The cold mathematics of moving bodies in space
Is impressive; moon, sun, stars, the giant sky
Is reality, and almost comforts us, and many, about to die,
Pushed down by death in this sad, familiar place,
Will find the vast nothing of outer space belongs to their goodbye,
The moon, the one we loved, the moon to whom we cry.
Or will it be you, more than any other memory,
You, more than any other being
I will ache for beyond all ceremony,
Beyond chance, you, the one I would rather be seeing?
I had been wanting to get closer to you for quite some time.
There is no doubt, since my birth, I was destined to rhyme,
And here I am. Rhyming.
I was born on the other side of the earth from you.
This is difficult to see, even from outer space, where black leaves behind the blue.
We met when vast distances fell away, and of course there was a miracle of timing.
We met on a train. You laughed. I looked into your eyes.
Then other things happened. Beneath the skies.
