Whoever Holds Me Now In Heart

Whoever holds me now in heart, know that I am leaving
This damp, warm, snowing place. There might also be rain,
But if it comes, send it on its private way. No water enough
Could bloom my wilting affection, which I cradle in vain.
If I could choose, I would refuse even still to always be
True as the years spent building this web of stars.
But oh, my friends, when what is near you feels so far,
Lay me down your heart and go your own way.

Do not whisper promises in the heat of night,
Do not scratch up the floor as you make your lively exit:
Only go, and know that I might someday return.
Yet now I have mountains to steep, roads to sail,
Books to eat and unbelievable journeys to tell.
And I know that I am not alone: That we are
Exploding like a firework on black canvas.
So do not fear the edges where we have never been,
They were created for the young and alive to explore.
Let yourself run in the dark with scissors of flame.
Make children, masterpieces, nations of noise.

Whoever holds me now in heart, give me breath.
The growing season stretches and pulls: we are but
Plants in a country of farms. Oh, my friends,
I will not forget the stasis of your arms.
But now the light’s caved in, the water’s dried up,
I must, I must turn away from your hand.
This was a heartbreak I had never planned.
I have already torn myself, limb from body,
It’s a rip not even families could repair.
So lay me down your heart and go your own way.

But if someday you should need a hug that lasts too long,
If somehow you lose a mind in the great grove of Time,
I am at sky’s length: Send your owl my way.
And if you feel the inexplicable need to choke,
Choke away, my friends, my palm is at your back.
Send for me if your idea is too much for narrow words.
If the winds are sideways, if the sun is blaring,
If the cherry-red horns of the ambulances are wailing,
Then trust that I will be just through the doors.
If you seek a statue to accent the shade,
Or a pilot to pilot the turbulence of silver air,
Or if you should need to comb fingers through wild hair,
Then pray call—I am your man, I am still your boy.

You’ve seen me to the end, now comes the start.
If you should look for me, through brick-dusted streets,
With your buckets of sunlight, buckets of moon,
You’ll have broken my window again too soon.
Good brothers, darling sisters, you are my Original
Inspiration, my first fresh breath and wind.
I carry you with me until I carry myself down,
And though I cannot stay,
It has always been my dream to be everywhere at once:
So lay me down your heart, and go your own way.