Do Not Wait For Me To Yield Poem by Bernhard Emil Bruhnke III

Do not wait for me to yield

by the tired steps
ached with molded fevers.

Do not wait for the light
to scatter your ashes
over the windows of your lost espies of paradise.

Know that the slow, tangerine light
will not miss you
or your odorless blood.

I never gave myself time for grief
nor solitude.
It would only give me an excuse to forget the morning.

Do not try to let the smoke settle
over your wild bouquet of corpses.
Not without a whisper
of snow beneath your heavy feet,
for if you do, you will dine on a feast of webs.

Your intimate collapse of feeling.

Do not gasp as the air is leaving,
it was not meant to return.
This moment is all you are,
a transient desire.

Trust me,
one day a passerby
will learn to smile without a shield.

So, my love,
do not despair
if a handshake is not made of flowers.
Or if your heart is afraid of gravity.

We are simply eyes
yearning to penetrate the wind.

I am simply a hand
that will never clasp the stream.

I am an echo,
giving lessons to the moon

I am your last goodnight sleep.
This night, I am too tall to reach divinity.