When the world is less far-flung,
We will not miss each other
At the next street corner,
A minute or a mile, this way or that.
There won’t be long pauses
Before I say great things with my tongue
To you—each word’s end close to its beginning;
Every syllable spied on by its sinning,
Not for disobedience, but for pleasure;
No length between doubt and wisdom,
Its measurement the measure of measure,
In proximity to the good,
And we’ll always be near enough to be understood.
The moon will always be
Next to us; yours will not be a country
At war with mine; the hills will be
Together, so you and I can be together.
Distances will never be very long;
The universe will not be cold,
Or stretch out, in heart-breaking song;
No stars, far away, millions of light-years old,
Will, in the cold light-years, outlast us.
Planetary orbits will be happy to stand still,
The arms of the milky way will not move, in giant sadness, past us.
When I cry out to you, alone in the world,
Or plead with you over the phone,
Immediately we will call a truce,
And tremble in a happier tone.
When the world is less far-flung,
We will always be close, and young.
And when you go away,
Even then, someone will call out, and you will change your mind, and stay.