And some day the wind will carry us

to a certain hollowness, apart.
we will not know to breathe,
we will not fathom words
we will not sail with the leaves
Someday unmindful, sorrow will carry us
meandering through the eternal fog
with empty spaces forming banks
rivering us into shape
before
all goes to ashes
before lines are blurred
and faces forgotten.
into the last uncharted land
where neither of us can sing
into the forlorn residue of our mind.