Ducks. Moons. Eternity. Tamed memory.
Little things I keep alive in my mind.
Your presence. Essence. The place in the world your had. It’s still hard to find anything that will ever replace.
Eclipse. Moonshine. Moonstone.
Pentagram, in a illustrated book.
Never, ever, even being.
Your words that saved me. And these little things I do. Again. Again,
Pain gone? That’s a comfort. For some.
I’m trying. Trying to be worthwhile. Again. Again.
Desolation in the empty.
Insidious clouds empty snow. But they are fleeting. Dissipating.
Worthwhile? What is that to a tiny snowflake? To a duck on the lake waiting out the rain? The life that flows through us, it’s trying always to escape.
The world, the essence of it, comes from our little bits of time.
Yours, to brief.
mine still lingering
I ask why