Birth

She opened her eyes first,
Saw only what was there:
Gauze; a haze of shadows,
A blur only she could make real.

Watch him form out of the mist,
Come to her (with good intent),
She resolves him; he holds close to her,
In the end it comes to dust.

She grows: tomorrow she will be old,
Tonight she begins her trip--
Packing light, she squelches the candle,
And invites his lips to hers.

So the story goes; so the virgins
Grow old, and so death does again
Walk towards each woman and man:
The end is in the beginning.