There are no more strangers in the terebinths

Elijah has been lost to me for years
He thinks I have forgotten his ways
His memoirs, his tattered journals
But I have always held out hope
That he would abandon the cause
In preference for the good

The good, or so the word denotes,
Does love like a flower to the lost,
Breathing under a telescope
For meteor sightings, and flaming
Sports cars, riding into the sky
Elijah thinks his silence will fool me,
But I hear him breathing close
The fire is about to be betrayed