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The Quiet Fire of Forgetting I’m drawing myself close to you again, as I write: The day we met, some sad thoughts have ignited the long-departed sun, behind the clouds, with your cold hands holding me dear to the heaven of absolutes. But then, as the awakening moments approached, lo, I have since disappeared into pain that does not bring birth, the quiet fire of forgetting. Accelerated was I, in exuberance wilting away, like a tested Spring. You were the island lying in innocence, as I played with the sands, finding that soundless sky had always been beyond my reach, and waved goodbye to you in a juvenile ignorance. 2004-10-16 |