NIGHT FINDS US

it's no use.

we might spend the rest of our lives in this bed,

rain rattling outside, leaden sky.

we might hide ourselves, utter a new country,

draw endless maps, so distorted eventual pursuers will lose our scent.

we may give up on telephones and family members,

a life detached.

That might be good. That would be new,

and I like new things.

but night will find us.

we may climb this hill and run away from prying eyes,

play dead till the wolves pass.

we may fill the corners of this house with our essence,

but we both know night will find us in the end.

we may travel to an ancient city

erected with memories, and build a temple there,

a sanctuary.

That would be nice. That might help.

but night will find us, and you know what that means.

we cannot escape it in geography nor time,

your marbled body beside mine knows it,

the columns of the Acropolis know it.

Night will find us and corrupt everything we have ever built or craved.

and after the world turns again,

all will be changed.

Buildings will have been razed, the dead will have risen.

All lovers will have been burned to a crisp,

till there's nothing left but charred marks on white linen.

There will be no more rain tapping your window, no more rain.

There will be no more new languages and territories to explore

no more.

your face will return to your soul, and that will return somewhere,

leaving nothing behind but our badly burned bodies

for no other lovers to see, for they too will have been taken by night.

the world will be thrown in confusion and desperation.

such is the consequence of night.

dawn will not come again.

it will all be night.

your eyes will be silent again,

for there will be nothing else but night to contemplate.

nothing will ever be all right

ever again.

therefore, let us not shorten the day

so that night creeps in as slowly as it can.