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morrison 2011

was a time
before illusion –
a time to wonder why
– tho maybe
I imagined
every whispered
lullaby

a bliss –
the same as breathing –
of the same sweet air as I
is held
within the silence
– within the penance
of a sigh

tis all the same
I see that now –
but what of dreams will know
when death is come
my hand to still –
was faith
for loving so

this tepid trust
these lukewarm tears –
might distance
mine erase
as echoes of forever
draw me nearer
to this place

where once I knew
and once I lived –
a house just down the hill
is tortured
by the turning back
– a lifetime
waiting still

what prophet gleans
the past resolved
as moments we allow
would suffer time
as wondering –
where love remains
somehow

for one more time
restored to touch –
one kiss when life is passed
one heaven here –
I knew it well –
shall grieve my soul
at last

. . .