Behind Avalon is a place we have built
Leftover from myth and gossip
We have split reason and peas on the edge of a dream
And live under a thatched roof of endsummer.
It's never day
And it's never night
And we never feel like sunrise is coming.
Windswept and windtorn
Winddrawn and winding down
Withdrawn and with hopes
That the end won't come
without a beginning.
Behind Arthur and Morgaine,
Behind Jaweh and Pluto
But just beyond Bulfinch and Gutenberg
We sup upon wine pressed
from
factual desire
and cheese made from
every last
breath
We wake to vows written across the sky
Holding hands as we read it aloud
Loudly proclaiming
Debating
Where the emptiness begins.
Night never comes
but sleep often does
And when it does, we raise our spirits the best we know how
Because we are all seated
on the end of all days
Forfeiting Past for the Now.
