On Day 1,373 since, it's
with shivering clarity I see the threshold of the dark, glittering Seine beyond his beautiful head, the arc of bent knee, this chasm behind him and it was that he chose, would be that I would choose, and in choosing him, taking a hold of an outstretched hand from the veil, walking into a river I’d only ever thought I’d see in thick fever dreams, this lightning bolt from his hip helmed by love herself that the line of my life illuminated, rising and falling with the 20,000 bulbs of the Tower winking welcomes, the path is here, an endless time, a fusing surge of then and now and next.
The lamp’s always on
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