Promises

A day to the north, a month to the east
a week to the south and across the western sea
will take you to the land of flowing green
where young wheat gathers height and
waves in play with the winds childish blows
dreams and simple life abound
but this is not where our promise was made

Western over mountains high, south to the cold below
east of the flowing planes and north of the old river
there is a city dark, old, and made of stone
which gather the children of darkness and pain
who trudged homeward from roting mine
though the smoke of the towering factories
nightmare and darkness abound
But this is not where our promise was made

Our promise was made on the road
which we traveled together for a time
a road which every soul must find.
A road which runs neither north nor south,
east nor west, to no solid place, yet every place
Our promise was made on that road
while traveling forward through our lives
And for a time together we walked
or crawled or run or climbed.

Now I must find another road
one which you can not follow me on.
Not yet at least, later you will
for every soul must travel far from here.
And in that journey all promises break
do not cry, we may yet meet
but not yet, not yet, not yet,

my love...