Still yet, lost friend

I dream of castle ruins and melted dew
the breadth of a past
long forgotten
shattering the present
like a persistent alarm.

Seraphim,
I hear your chant
like a war call
marching through the psyche
and delivering the knot you left undone.

Will you give chase if I run?
Will you weep if I sacrifice?
If I revisit this mourning dew
collapsed as
stolen bricks,
will the foundation be just as lost?

Tell me again no
Rip me again
my earnest compassion,
and one turn
two
three
or four more
around the tilt of the relentless sun
I will return -
renewed again
with compassion - 

A hollow chamber
echoing still,
where always I fill
with you.