Comments about Lost Photon
Rustle of a dress, a photograph.
Mind races, thoughts rush.
The scene changes rapidly.
That small kid-return-his sweet memories.
Returns-those carefree times whence lived he, his friends, his World.
Piercing-the amaranthine conglomeration of past-forgotten memories.
Brief is his venture-beckoning through the starngles of cruel time.
Mist-it fades, away it melts, away in the black abyss of distant time.
Time-the ultimate Truth, the inky blackness.
The morbid mind gropes-winces to grasp the Truth,
projected in the motley garb of sweet renascent.