There is no poetry nor word
Maybe no symbol
That accurately can render
Disintegration of a life
Led in promise, in shining hope
When age was far enough in misty future years
To assuage fears that yet, inevitably grow
Winding their tenacious tendrils
The softest stranglehold
For when we are young we have we believe such
Allotment of time, stretching as a summer day
May appear not to truly end but take itself
Into another without interruption
As gentle as love’s measure when unspoilt
Will summon the dream and beckon it closer
We know these things in the future as seen dimly
Through the distance of time unwound
These many menace’s turning their guilty faces
Into monoliths of memory better hung than recalled
For such pain, disappointment brings upon us
What faded hour summons the ghosts O
There is you see … No poetry nor word
Nay even symbol
That can accurately render
The disintegration of a life.
This is wonderful, really gets me thinking about how far apart I could ever truly be from my past, but at the same time relieves me in recognizing time, that it is just possibility maybe. I dunno, I really loved this one!
Really appreciate you dearest Amelia 💜
Enjoyed this one. So true. Then again, my life stays disintegrated. 🙂
This is a masterpiece, my friend. The ways its constraints hold together what cannot be held… magic. 💜