The Unbegun

I.

In this paradise, positioned where your sternum meets my origin, 
my hair streaming across your chest,
I petition for the promised afterlife.

Your arms are parted around my flesh, enveloping
our future and
our mortality
and my hollow, orphaned voice reaches out to touch you. 

We are crystallized inside command
of what still is beautiful, the dusk
descending on
our discovery
of eternity
and where
we are still enlivened by the silence set forth,
the secrets breathing through our bones,
our blood flow,
our innocence. 

Soul subdued, heart-pardoned here where it began
and ends, we are cradled in completion.

II.

the unbegun thunders  warning.
Somewhere in the distance-
footsteps.

Rain descends, steady
 on our utopia,
but we stay, still recovering from poisoned plumes.

Now your still tender hands cup my face, and
                                                                          at last
my tears unsettle; an apology,
          admittance. 

We are in the womb of time.
Keeping pace only with what we await, moving to the beat
of the repetition
of our fearful hearts.

Sabotage proved successful,
and disconnected from the bloom,
maddened doom
inches ever closer.