For Kevin
Out of the opening cord rise the first plaintive notes
Hymning the grace of a distant lord,
As love is distant; and within the sanctum of the song,
The center that contains it, my heart calls out to you.
How far will these burning fibers reach
Before the lapse of time makes me an urn,
And you become the ashes I contain?
Already my metaphor resolves
Into discordant strains of memory and song.
Never our relationship,
But only these relations will remain,
Set to the music of an empty voice,
Singing through a hollow corpse.
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