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Showing posts from February, 2007


We had no soul,
no spirit that would carry on
after our death.

Then the sand that falls each day
to mark time in a glass,
is where I would find
my beginning and my end,
my hope and my ruin,
something like a soul.

September 2004

Four in the Evening

I sit alone
my limbs too weak to move.
hours pass yet
my breath does not leave me.
my heart does not betray me.
my eyes open yet nothing seen.
sounds of the day threaten the silence,
and although I try,
my mind cannot
erase the memories the years have painted
within these walls.
I long to share your silence,
for history to be none.
then I would not feel,
I would not know
the pain of losing you.
January 2004