I must believe there is a tremble
in the peace, an energy in the last hush
that sets the blur of each face apart,
joking about itself between the breaths
of the everlasting song; I must believe
I will reach an hour in the next stage
of my sleep to see an eternal rebinding
of each unfinished, unanswered dream
from this half-waking side — a calm
guided back into night, a centerpoint
in the empyrean balancing an infinity
of dance steps back into what I must believe,
I must believe, of life. It need not be God
or anything too unaware of itself to be
anything but love; but if it is you,
if you are dancing, if it is no dream,
that would be enough.