her

I dream about her for the final time,
tonight, while all the birds have ceased to sing
upon this midnight hour. 

Each feeble wing
falls down and neither pains nor pleasures climb
my slumber. In the recess of my mind
I know that when I wake I wake to bring
my voice back up to its full height and fling
my sorrow on the ground, waiting for sublime

thought itself like crystal found in those dark caves
somewhere beyond unseeing troglobites.
Finding it, I will stand there full of awe,
my body trembling, eyes feeling a light
more than they have or guessed they could before,
a light that shakes the heart and pulls its waves.