If
tomorrow the sun doesn't set,
will you travel with me across the never-ending horizon,
through an opaque, tortoise-colored sky,
past the dark side of night,
to the sun rising over the dawn of forever,
on emerald waves clashing on crystal shores?

If
tomorrow the rain falls green,
will you search with me through the warmth of the earth,
a glimmer of the coming spring,
a seedling in the well of tears,
for dreams unborn in wombs of death,
through frozen landscapes and bottomless skies?

If
tomorrow the world turns to ash,
will you gather with me the grittery sand,
molten glass and twisted steel,
polish the ground with shriveled shroud,
with tattered wings set hope adrift,
streaming away to the farthest star?

If
tomorrow love turns stale,
shall we reap the full-flowering wheat,
grind it in the hearth of hate,
toss it across the wind of words,
sweeten it with bitter herbs,
and bake it in the freshness of hell?

~10/24/95~