Spire

Clouds are scrawled across something
that once
was like the moon,
flitting on the edges of evening;
and playing there with the sun.

So I climbed here, miles high
to drag back the clouds
that have covered both your eyes
only to find that even here,
out on a mountain’s height
I couldn’t reach you.

I’ll carry boulders, year upon year
curling spire into spire
to lift me up to airless heights
where I’ll stand at your side
and draw back the shade that fell
between our rebel souls.

Then the thread of evening shall spin
down into morning
where we will both find ourselves
together once again.