We're changing our ways, taking different roads, and love will tear us apart again. Ian Curtis

The love we have for mother, father, sister
is inculpatory evidence of our mere humanity
and enables us to see, incompletely,
myopically, the merest movement of the moon.

Which will shift the seal that hides the veil
that moves us all into the tempest's sail
and storm and thunder-struck - all to no avail. 

I cross the fields of corn and gold
until the years take hold. I am bereft.
Those days cannot come again.. 

Now, I  walk along the meekest streets
of this my much beloved city of the bee.
I look for nothing and contentment
slides in beside me as I walk this
well-worn highway.

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