When Sol our sun lays by the hill,
Miss Luna of the nighttime fills
through the clouds of silver shrouds
to hide the listless tendrils blue.
Under the moon she passed too soon,
a star she came and flew.
Why do we climb if just to fall?
Why do we live and die at all?
We do we love, why do we lie?
Why do we laugh1
I once knew a girl who died,
who kissed the Lips of Suicide.
I knew her for a long, long time,
that laughing girl, that friend of mine,
who one day my way stayed a time.
She stayed with me for one day, one,
but when the last knot came undone,
her life because of sorrow spun,
never saw she again the sun.
We met by chance, through but a glance,
Of a mutual friend of ours;
we went to eat,
we had a drink,
and all those treasured hours—
Each moment was a thousand flowers,
Bloomed ripe yet now are dead.
chrysanthemums that crimson red
like a crown upon her head.
She went to sleep,
I to her read:
“We are the footprints by the sea,
just you and me.”
That night I went to sleep with ease,
the first time in so long,
we slept together both alone.
She walked into my dream world, while,
she held a bottle full of smiles.
And in those dreams,
we walked through streams,
and saw some deer walk by.
Above us mocking buzzard’s called,
I looked at her and sad I saw,
her wistful face turned to the sky
where the buzzards in a circle fly,
Waiting on my friend to die.
She dreamed of a stairway too,
where rivers red turn royal blue,
we walked until we found a door,
then drunken stumbled on the shore,
she screamed and no one heard,
calling like a wounded bird;
The dying footprints of the fall.
She never got to see the sky,
the clouds in raveled fleeces by,
when the sun rose in the morn,
the light of day was scattered, torn,
into tendrils colored grey;
she never got to see the day,
she never got to wonder why:
the flower falls under the sky.
She came to see me, one last time,
tried to call, got the machine,
and on it I heard her scream,
“I’m sick. I’m sorry. I need help.
Somebody save me from myself.”
In my dreams she came again,
we walked alone the shore, the sand,
we lay together, laughed, and smiled,
the public face of fireflies
like diamonds glittered in the sky
and when the memory washed away,
on the last of all her days,
I was left with just that glass,
reflecting happy faces past,
which for a while we saddened wore,
in those dream worlds on the shore.
Out footprints in the sand have gone,
seagulls who sang those songs have flown,
when all the blind men have gone home,
into that golden sun, and Dawn,
where starlight scatters on the grass,
her face reflects in waves of glass,
Our Sol above long shadows cast,
like the moonlight during day,
where the ghosts of yesterday
with shadows walk where shadows play.
Where once I walked I oft return,
the deaf black Sea our mother’s urn,
where my Madonna died.
Where in the skies her lullabies
sonorous cascading from the skies.
She tried to call,
did not get through
no signal, nothing left to do,
nothing to stop the fall.
Nothing to stop them, buzzards call
, why do we cry?
Why do we have to say goodbye?
We cannot see beyond the sky,
but in the gutter still we try.
Why do we ask?
If still we call,
the path the footprints of the fall.
I last saw her on a dreary day gray,
and we walked through an iron maze
through the ivy and the haze
flies light the night.
She wore a satin robe and gown,
with red blush on her face.
I watched her for a moment,
Today was enough for me,
no need for dreams or fantasies,
where in she walked in steps by me,
and I said aloud:
No need for Heaven, for me God,
It’s good enough right now.