In a thousand years

when wishes are our currency

and death is but a temporary, tactile illusion…

 

where will love find you?

Will you find her by the willow flowers

or underneath the daffodil tree

or in the depths of the cloud-filled ocean

or deep in the forest of hollowed out shells?

Could she hide between the bluegrass and the graveside of your mother

or will she wait patiently for your wandering boots to lead you back to her heart?

 

where will you find joy?

Slipping through the fingers of the beggar on the corner

or nestled in the curls of a bubbling, bouncy baby

or higher in the sky than you thought you’d ever climb

or in the words of the passersby floating through her home?

Might she disguise herself as a demon crashing, smashing

through the hearts of those who thought they knew exactly how to keep her?

 

where will hope find your children?

Will he burst into the open door you left when chasing charity

or find them clinging to your shoulders, giggling up a storm

or lose his grip on their shining thoughts as they scramble into the sunlight

or jump through hoops in an eternal attempt to keep them looking upward?

Should he stay awake, aware of all the terror that encroaches

or slumber through the pain and rise up only when you call?

 

In a thousand and one years

when wishes are no longer our currency

but death is still a temporary, tactile illusion…

 

where will you find me?