Dig deep into memory,
Brushing away the sediments
Of six years of longing
Til dreams
Float in synchronistic suspension
Before your eyes.
Visions heavy with purifed
Images of raptured youth
Fog the air; slow your breathing,
Repeat the words imprinted
On your mind:
"We will never be here again."
Dangling strands of starlight
Flicker in the sullen and solitary breeze,
Serenade of the darkening sky.
We will be here again,
When the discontent of waning youth
Is far behind, when shadows darken
On the horizon of our years.
Our dreams will linger, however, nourished
In the lachrymose starlight of crepusculum.
They will be our markers,
our only reply to the charge
That we never lived at all.
Bolivar and San Martin: Guayaquil, Ecuador
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I try to document my memories, but something in them is lost. I don't feel like I have any proof that I was ever anyone. I got a nice rush when I read,"We will never be here again." It added a lot.
And I also liked the last bit,"our only reply to the charge that we never lived at all."
All throughout the poem I kept worrying it was going to fade away and leave me wishing I understood what had seemed so beautiful, but you captured it.
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