Adagio

 As we wane,
everything
slows
down,

lost moments weeping,
unraveled in the labyrinth of paradise lost,
hope for the crucible of sleep to forge dreams of paradise found.

as we wane,
fallen hearts seek grace,
recover pleasure,
pain,
or somewhere in between,

a yearning
for the perfume of skin,
the taste of tears,

for hope,
where dream might gather memory,
as the sky gathers a nightingale,

for infinity to sing,
to beg for miracles of light
to find glacial hearts in thaw.
     
This is how we survive the adagio of years,
the waning,
the decay.