It was madness to treat you like some character locked in a box,
for all I knew, you suffering too much in that darkness of nothingness.
Where are you now, now that it’s impossible to write to you?
How friendly was I when I did this because of a love unborn?
Close my eyes, I see you at the head of some vague boarding line.
Weary and dread, I feel it, I sent you across that river, tried to imagine
a boat afloat on black water, so for better now, I’ll make amends.
Now, for you, I’ll write a white moonlit night, snow angel, to fly you home.
Did you ever after feel any lap and bumpiness, my tide for your bow,
me a gentle pilot, friendly, the fair stroke of any good speech flowing?
So now this is how I’ll write you, I swear for what I didn’t do,
in the end instead of being too late to say goodbye, I’ll pull
the magician’s trick and switch me into that dark box for you,
go in there to set you free, you sailing away on light to light