Talking to Ourselves

Goodbye is not the correct word,
but then neither is silence,
waiting to open these veins
to see what remains after we die.
But then neither is silence
the answer that reveals what we desire–
to see what remains after we die,
to hear again a voice that rises like the sun.
The answer that reveals what we desire–
eternity for what is lost–
to hear again a voice that rises like the sun,
bursting into music like glowing seeds.
Eternity for what is lost–
a soundtrack to the words that populate our dreams,
bursting into music like glowing seeds,
resting in the palm of our hand.
A soundtrack to the words that populate our dreams–
no one can open the vein
resting in the palm of our hand.
Goodbye is not the correct word.