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.

8 Replies to “The softest stranglehold”

  1. There is that beyond the grasp
    of any word or poetry
    to encompass
    to contain
    the truth of loss
    the depth of grief
    the color of regret
    the vibration of joy
    the scent of love
    the taste of hope
    poets know this
    have always known
    but the quest calls
    so over mountains
    and down valleys
    go the poets
    seeking that

  2. 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!

  3. This is a masterpiece, my friend. The ways its constraints hold together what cannot be held… magic. 💜

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