Don’t forget this language of love,
try to remember its pulse. Its breath.
When the sky purges itself of day,
feel these words quiver like the firefly’s flickering thorax.
These memories, this poetry, this rhythm—
you’ve heard this drum before
and to this beat you will return.
Don’t wait. Empty yourself.
Surrender, and watch these tides
come crashing back to your desolate shores.