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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