The Sparrow

Enter the fluid sleep of years,
Twenty-odd and crawling.
The moon turns over broken arches,
Darkness over sanctified stone -
Divinity in the flesh,
Death undone by beauty.
This is a rushed and feverish kind of regret,
A desperate railing against the inevitable.
There is no simple warning,
Only a dim echo that is now considered forfeit.
I can see your pain -
I can see it in gunmetal eyes
That fall upon grace and see destruction -
And I know what it costs you to deny it.
Myths are made and torn down,
We will pass and cease to bear witness.
The earth is born again -
Green blades of grass and raging oceans,
And you don't feel anything.
Through the doors
At the end of the Great Hall -
A sparrow's flight.
We are static and numb,
The past forgiven or obliterated -
I will go down with this ship,
And under God himself, I don't care.