What is the meaning for all this?
The milk sitting quietly, the half-put-away shoes.
I thought that you were circling further from me;
There were attempts at waking up.
A concoction of honey and wild flowers -
To heat the bones from inside.
But my soul is dreaming still, on a train, in Poland;
Closing in on grim distance, and a terror of never arriving.
Yet humans, we reach a destination;
And in that place, the farthest I believed you to be
the nearer you were advancing.
Chipping down the caked-on soot, and grime,
and making the Night hold a hope of morning.