The Dream

The awful silence of the past:
And in all the little villages,
Summits apart,
The world is out of work;
It sacks the invisible heart.

Dream in the universe.
What would a dream’s word be
Somehow to find us meeting
Amongst the vanished years?
Each day goodbye in greeting,
Each departure like the stars,
And the touch of both. The sadness
Of my hands housing yours.