Imperfect day

I tried not to see
how broken the earth
and white the trees.
And all the unrisen dawns
that dazzle in my eyes.
But I have bowed forward
too many times,
each to a missing soul
and faces of rock.
All with ten thousand
longings, without me.
In this world,
I have elsewhere.
To bear me away
and unbear me to you.
So, here I am
in my summer years,
still shaking loose
from this halo of solitude.
I will survive
the things of us.
The cuts, the kisses
and the temple bells
pining the empty space.
And whatever my love
cry was, it will become
a long and reasonable day.
A cry to life: Salud!

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