Find me

Find me in the trees. 

Find me in the stars. 

Find me in the newborn cry. 

Find me in the weary sigh

of the prophet we denied. 

I was destroyed in Schliemann's trench, 

discarded in the recension of Pisistratus.

My voice lies untranslated 

in a forgotten archive

buried in the unexcavated capital

of a civilisation unknown to scholarship.

I am like an ancient space probe

with corrupted firmware

turning a deaf ear earthwards

from interstellar space,

although my journey 

has no beginning and no end. 

I have not gone, 

I am just so far away

your voice cannot reach me. 

I see your lips move

light years out of sync

and hear what I want to hear

whispered in the diffuse gas

between the stars. 

Let it be love. 

Let it be love. 

Let it be love.