All time stopped in that fierce apocalypse.
She dozed, drowsy, exhausted from the swim
The riptide of death and the incessant overwhelming waves.
She had gone where I could not go.
Her life was her own no more mine,
And in silence she conversed with herself and with pain.
Where in all this ragbag of guts
Is such a mystery of man contained?
And why, not knowing my bride just then,
Did I fall in love with her again?