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