In memory of rituals, we fall into place
Covering a masterpiece with discarded moments of our last victory
We are mystified by the likelihood of this irrelevance
In believing…
There is still doubt covering a canvas with bitter images
And in discovering
There is still a lasting impression of the things we lost
And today…
I follow a mystery without you
To hold my dignity
And my temptation
These times, eras, are no longer ours
Instead they follow a spiral into a place I have not been
And in remembering
I have forgotten most things
That made us me
And made you, you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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