Every night is another separation
In the lovers' world.
Each opens the same door
and move as laden clouds
into separate worlds.
Memories freeze purple
in their earthly veins; rainy dreams
soak unslept nights into;
Sculptures of being;
Sculptures of leaving.
Every morning as they wake up,
Inside every lover there's a
One buried deep within the sinews,
In another earth.One from which someone
"I loved you, I loved you"
And thus it is, with every night
and every day.
The lover exists but in the twilight.
Art : sculpture by Andrew Rogers; Many Lives.