When We Meet Again

When we meet again (which I'm sure we will),
there will be no live wood to which to cling.
And the oldest tree
that ever stood
will have folded arm like
branched decay
in the coffin of the wood.

And the kite,that soars the sky
for the last time, will swoop and land to die.
Will have tucked ts nodding head
beneath exhausted wing.
Lips will part and will not sing.
And when we've earned then spent
this life, and deserts grow.
When the joys we've had
no longer flow:

We will move, (yes I'm sure we will)
past the gasping bridge
for which we strive
Then we shall
know (yes I'm sure we will)
that the sun's burnt out
yet still we burn.
And all the laws shall be
undone
Leaving only
love

for Christiaan
and John