In the morning you’ll be a pillar of salt
in the morning you’ll be a crumbled wall
but tonight you are
the resurrection and the truth.
You are a masterwork carved from granite,
a stone unturned,
touch your lips as if they were brittle as glass
and you shiver.
He has his rights
and you gave your word,
which you meant
there are a billion stars swirling above us
with a trillion planets grasping tight;
so one will collapse,
what tragedy is that in the grand scheme?
If he should ask
a sun dies well before the light vanishes.