Too Late, Never

Always better, even too late, than

                                                Never

The want that waited

                Buried, bones brought

                Back to flesh

                                (reincarnated)

In the solitude

                Like catacombs

                Masks and memories

                                (a past fleshing back)

Flesh to bones

                Eyes in empty sockets

                Gaze back into yours

                In your mind’s barrenness

                                (fruitful alone)

In the solitude

                Waiting…

                Alone but not abandoned

                Left but not behind

                                (but how to go on?)

Struggling on

                A part, not alone

                The eyes that gaze

                                Into yours

                Alive, but your heart

                                (in infinite isolation

                                                At least here)

Detached, disconnected

                                (but whole)