Three Candles
Who knows what we are?
Three candles on a Christmas tree.
One for sorrow, one for joy, one for the nothing that is.
A scornful wind breaking in where nothing's been broken
Unspoken memories digging in deep.
Swimming sometimes or seeming to swim in
Unexpected stretches of wild water.
There are times when if you offered us death we'd take it,
And after a few long breaths, if you offered
back our lives, we might just make it.
The streets are clean, we've made them clean,
Our efforts heroic under the warm lamp light,
But wasn't it empty, all that noise,
An opera without words lost in the mystery of the double-dark night?
