Alien we wrap around each other
blankets to obscure our fate.
But the cold still seeps through.
Our nobility has fled into the recesses
of an iron cage leaving us
Our bodies restricting our desire.
Birds flock into and fly from
the shuttered factory
and we see them also aloft
above the valley
white gray and black silhouettes
under the evening clouds painted
pink orange and red.
Faceless denizens of the desert
find us sleeping and
rummage through our castoffs:
Clocks that stopped long ago
maps of lands long past
words no one remembers
music no longer heard.
We have reached the opposite side
standing together as the mist
of the nearby falls
covers us in a new baptism.