speak in a language that cannot

be heard

seen in reflections with shadows

disturbed

caught in the blink of an eye

was that imagination or something

gone by

flames to ashes ashes to flame things

once different now the same

is this the end of a different beginning

or the beginning of an end that is different

are they not the same for death

is an illusion and life but a game

 

 

 

did not winters dream catch me

sleeping in memories of you

lost in the distance of a past

come true not knowing of any

other now than was you in our

love woken from death with the

glance of a blow from what is

to become and what we will

know

 

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