Zeppelin

The coins rest deep in the wells of my eyes
Placed gently there after I died
It’s a small penance I’m willing to pay
For my fare, my fate, escape
But what beauty and grace will remain
As our ruins or relics or names?
They’re all constants that stand to remind
Us of what quickly passes by
As we quit the shore
I survey the graves:
Rows of old stones
Unevenly paired
Princes with thieves
And lovers apart
So where shall I lay?
With you?
Alone?
The storm is now pressing its weight on all sides
As it plunges its nails into pine
The tall waters will wash us away
For now, forget, erase
And leave nothing behind whence we came;
No ruins, nor relics, nor names
Nor anchors to hang in the tides
That slowly still unwind
But we rest assured
That we’re safe in our graves
With faces upturned
We look to be saved
But the rustling of soil
Will slowly subside
And quietly die