The Quiet Fire of Forgetting
I’m drawing myself close to you again, as I write:
The day we met, some sad thoughts have ignited
the long-departed sun, behind the clouds, with
your cold hands holding me dear to the heaven
of absolutes. But then, as the awakening moments
approached, lo, I have since disappeared into pain
that does not bring birth, the quiet fire of forgetting.
Accelerated was I, in exuberance wilting away,
like a tested Spring. You were the island lying in
innocence, as I played with the sands, finding that
soundless sky had always been beyond my reach,
and waved goodbye to you in a juvenile ignorance.
2004-10-16
