requiem

on the eve of a month so bright,
we awaited the rise of a three-eyed moon,
and as the dying sun relinquished its light,
so did we our feathers, too,
for we saw in our forms only ourselves,
the elected forms of our wholesome souls.
intertwined, yet separate beings,
alloys of star and matter made dense
by time and a desire to coalesce,
two wanderers, les planetes ici,
deux paramours, avec grands-inspirations,
suspended eternally in time.
in moments we were impenetrable,
and within those moments, immortal.
we knew we would die,
me and the lovely raven bride;
our children cry for themselves,
as I cried for her,
as she cried for me,
as we cried for ourselves.
it is okay. it is right.
loss is never easy. transformation is impossible.
yet we did so, thrice. infinite times.
and ultimately we found ourselves,
a planet, sailing through the skies,
bearing life and other sweet fruits,
and through ourselves, our Selves;
it is this journey which led us
to love greater than our predecessors,
and theirs,
forevermore.
amen.