Carcosa

Black stars stitched across
the implied white sky are
a negative image of our world.

Beneath them, a hollowed heart
opened its branches toward
the hallowed threshold.

Early light through the canopy
moved despite the absence of wind.

Then silence entered every artery;
no birdsong, no insect hymn,
no wind among the branching.

Even my breathing felt
hollowed out.

I understand every tree remembers
the sapling that it once was,
and every stream bears memory
of the mountain where it began.

So too the earth remembers Carcosa,
though we were taught other names.

Then I knew that love also keeps
memory older than its beginning.

And you were always with me,
hidden like water within stone.