Across the wide river
I hear your voice
high
on rising air,

soaring upward
on spirals that build
to the edge
of space itself
where eternity waits,

turning, turning, turning.

Across the wide river
you signal
mysteries

found in that new country
where the double helix
is untangled,

spiralled backwards
as matter is unbound,
complexity reduced to essence.

Across the wide river
your voice
has become a bird

wholly spirit shrugging off
inconvenient flesh

and bringing news of immortality
beyond this web of days
which binds us close,

tight as Mummies
in the sarcophagus.

Here we are embalmed
in illusion – death the waking,
life the dreaming :

Bodies a skin of fruit falling
to leave that core of love,
flowers held fragile
between sheets transparent,

thinner than oiled silk,
thinner than leaves of memory
turned in the wind of leaving.

Across the wide river
I hear your voice,
clearer than the flow of mountain water
over rocks ancient,
studded with moss and potent
signs of death unbinding.

Across the wide river
I hear your voice
rising high on mute air

to where eternity waits
and whole lives
are but an eye blink –

Between opening
and closing
a life is begun,
lived and ends.

Only love endures.