Trees on the move

Lights standing in the shadows they cast

Books forever in flux

A bottomless supply of life

These are all lesser ways

of comparing the marvel

of your supermassive

acknowledging the eventuality

of touching mine

Corpses what cannot rot

Breaths unceasingly shared

Songs now sung by an other

A map full of inaccessible Edens

We are told no by these

separating boxes of bedrock

—their deafening wails of, “IMPOSSIBLE!”

But I refuse to accept that,

from now until never

Glass without sand

Desire without te...