2007-11-12
the whisps of a past ghost
The sky is on fire.
It is blazing and then extinguishing as it dips below the horizon of water.
I am sitting still, allowing the music to infuse my ears like a form of breathing. I inhale the sounds as they wash over me. I know the undulations of the melody, I know the rhythm and lines as well as I know the memories they remind me of. I can�t picture it in my mind, I can�t see your face, but
I can recall
the surmounting potential from those years ago when I found you.
And it�s funny because it was nostalgic even back then, all sepia-shaded. My first love, all sentimental and clich�
no matter how I could try to avoid that, I have to succumb to the beauty of it.
Life changes. Not swiftly, but the shifts accumulate and surmount to my new life as it is, with you long out of it. I think of you no more, you, who was once my poetic inspiration, are now barely a passing whim.
Onward, going on to new things. We leave what we knew. But the memory remains, pressed in these notes I inhale, wisps of the past like ghosts, haunting.
You are gone. But I left too. We both set our flaming suns, burnt them out. I close my eyes, relish yet only observe the trace, until the song is gone.
leesah-likes at 10:06 p.m.