Space

for the night has reached its premature limits,
two correspondences playing with unseen letters.
no hope recalled, nor love undreamed,
no morning sought for ends to reunite.
the knell for the world today
has seen a colder page;
he prays but doesn't listen
and she sings but never dances.
the rhymes, the reasons,
still contradicting,
holding separate, shuddering
beliefs, coursing different lines
to fall
with a crash.