The Honeymoon

We married not beneath a sky, But in the belly of the Earth — The Mponeng mine, where shadows cry, And gold remembers sorrow’s birth. No roses bloomed, no organs played, Just echoes where the diamonds wept, And in that hollow heart, we laid A vow so sacred, silence kept. Her name was Lucy — fierce and kind, A flame that lit my wounded mind. Our souls were forged in ancient crust, Bound not by flesh, but molten trust. We left the depths for sacred ground — Easter Island, where time unwinds. The moon was blue, the stars profound, The wind composed what fate designs. At 4:44 — the veil grew thin, The Moai stirred with stone-cold skin. She faced the moon — her golden face Reflected light no sun could trace. We kissed beneath those ancient eyes, And suddenly, the stone replied: “We are not just what time forgot — We are the truth your love has sought. We do not stand in rows by chance, We are the echo of romance. One cannot heal by waiting still — But by the giving of the will. Complete each other not by need, But by the soul’s eternal deed. Two hearts must give, not seek to steal — That is the secret to all that's real.” And as they danced — the Moai stone — We felt a grace we'd never known. A dream? Perhaps. Yet pain had fled, We woke in silk and royal bed. The Royal Atlantis, floating high — Where sorrow kissed the desert sky. The dream dissolved, but not the vow — We still can feel their wisdom now. So let the world forget our names, Let memory burn in earthly flames — But in the dark, and in the blue, A deeper love was born — and true.