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The way it was
as worlds became
a distant memory of a spark –
was slipped away
(as kiss to kiss).
Nothing left but light to dark.
Rivers rushed into the sea –
tempests chased the scent of rain.
Vessels formed of dying leaves –
where love has been
it falls again.

Voice so clear
though seldom heard –
words to silent breath ensued.
Before the place we were
is gone –
drums shall tell of longing (true).
Westward winds
to fan the same –
carries us beyond the wing.
Beyond the stories
never told
another comes
(don’t mean a thing).

I was here –
I know for sure
but not for long (as years define).
I wrote of something
I can’t say
was but a fire – that fainting line.
Never knew –
no luck with names –
was started somewhere else
(my soul).
I often wonder what will be
remained of warmth
when I am cold.

To feel again
the same (as now)
mesmerized by dancing flame
sleepless nights to wonder (still)
from where we were
and why we came.
There’s no way to know
for sure –
when life is passed into the mist.
Who will speak
with honesty –
of love we knew – this sweet abyss.

A kinder tale –
I can’t recall
but surely there was more (to find).
Fever burned forgotten lives
when came anew
my eyes to blind.
As yesterdays
(a watermark)
faded soft beneath the glow.
Forever dreams
in memories –
a spark ignited
long ago.


. . .