Our Hope


Our Hope

There’s more to you,

to me. We are trees

weighted and waiting

for a last wind,

sweet yet apocalyptic.

We’ve traveled too far

not to part with broken hearts.

Conjoined hearts die

as they separate beneath

the white light of eternity.

Is there more?

You tell me dear.

Hope is in your hands

I have nothing left,

just thoughts of dust and wind.