A tick in memory, deja vue,
time folds, yet unseen.
Hidden by a shroud, impressions bound,
whispers the heart, of what may be.
Through it all love endures,
yet bound by ties, from thens to now.
When memory dies love lives on,
yet tarnished by an unseen past.
Twined in the mist as husband or wife,
soldier, statesman, friend or foe.
Loves in the night, sapphic delight,
bound by what we do not know.
One goes on, ever dying, ever old,
having passed time untold.
One goes on, never dying, never old…
Continue
Posted on October 3, 2008 at 12:30am — 1 Comment