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Leaves and Salt
by
Joseph Birnbaum
Imagine a House you have
With two years you use to build.
Never looking up, never looking down,
The Sky, the Earth a mirror.
Of dreams your house is built, of Leaves and Salt.
And every breath of your soul.
Blinded, you think you live there.
But a pauper you are, watching your dream
Afar as the stars, but no less beautiful.
As no flame is eternal, the House gives way.
A house of leaves in the wind.
But no house feels the same
No room familiar, no smell you'd rather know.
So you watch the ruins
Stoic, like the Golem
And as all life becomes death
So does hope
Like a house of leaves you can't bear to abandon.
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