I hear that microbes buried beneath the ice

For 20,000 years have been revived

And what should have been dead has been reversed

By gentle warmth, regardless of the price.

No hope for us, such complex entities,

To Frankenstein our forms with minds intact

When even sleep denies a conscious act

And memory is instantly snuffed out;

But yet if nothing conscious may survive

Bacteria and fire, perhaps I may

In infinite separation seek to play

Some part in the music of the spheres.

          What joy to think that somewhere there might be

          Something of beauty which once was part of me.

There is no last farewell for those who love

For though we may not see each other now

The love that bound us fast in life endures

For ever, deep as any furrow ploughed.

Brian Hick June 09

©copyright Sally Hick 10.6.22