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moments

it seems
I’ve forgotten
the reasons for us
and where you were going
before I came down
– a breeze
from the mountains
as light from the east
– a some kind of angel
in white cotton gown

at the mention of always –
sometimes I loose sight
of the way
that the world takes her time
as balanced perfection –
wherein I forget
the beauty of presence
divine

a scatter of ashes
in clusters of blue –
a sign by the side
of a once traveled road
remembers our passing
as time
on the map –
a place come of knowing
– of dreams
taking hold

. . .