In This Moment (1998) Poem by Lillian B. Rose

the hardest thing I see this day
are the traces of those long past away
some bring joy in it's radiant hue
and others, the tarnish of a painful view

still as time come to pass
we must let go of the past
for the truth is yet to be seen
not only in a waking dream

to each, his own dream shall come to pass
could that make a mockery, a jest
a zeal-full play of old expression
robbing us of new found protection

I've found the calming of my hot blood
mixed with stardust of a faraway constellation
the gentle waves of the sea
and again I reach out, hoping the spray will reach my fingertips

But it is not to be I realize
as the crest breaks too far
for my fingertips to brush
and my veins burn again in irony