My heart beats, in the face of your
Its pulsing rhythm no match for
the coldness in your veins.
They say that mysterious passageways take our lifeforce
to the dark places inside.
Between bone and tendon,
fueling brain and mind.
Like highways and byways that transport souls
some here, some there, to the farthest inhabitable land.
No one talks of the pathway you follow
when the beating stops, its song becomes out of tune,
and the blood goes still.
I hope we all have rides on that last road,
but I’m afraid you and I might have to wait.