.
By the end of Summer I shall be gone
Long overdue and wildly planned
In seconds and moments out of bound
Out of mind, out of all norms and drawn lines
Out of the path that has been most taken
By the end of Summer I shall be gone
Towhere nobody does truly know
In matter or corporeal, or in the ether of the mind,
or perhaps in a new form long thought forgotten
I shall be gone nonetheless and that shall be it
No more go-backs, no more waitings,
Not a single tick more to expect
Only the thrill of the run, the ache in the lungs
the fire burning in each and every limbs
And perhaps, just perhaps, a sliver of hope
For a plan drawn in the sand at searise.
Winter and Spring and Summer and Autumn
And Winter and Spring have come and gone
and will come and go again
But no time is like the future present in the face of the past
I have sworn and I shall upkeep my oath
By the end of Summer I shall be gone
Styx and stowns may brake my boons
But wards may never kill me
Three days later I shall rise and
Walk upon the Earth twice lived
Or perhaps I shall sleep evermore
And drift asea, abed, aboard a new ship
A ship of old remade too many times
Love is not for me, life is not for me,
I am not for me, only desire
And perhaps in such excess resides the truth of what I seek
Perhaps in greed resides my wisdom
Perhaps in sloth resides my legacy
Perhaps in lust resides my peace
I know them well these sins
I know them well and yet I don’t
They are etched into my heart
But forgotten at a glance, each beat further and further,
Until my mind’s eye witnesses my Death once again,
I know them well and they know me,
Yet we are friends, together we lie
I know them well when they are mine
I know them well when they are not
Yet they are strangers on the porch,
Not invited across the threshold
Hospitality forgotten, family forgotten, friends forgotten
They are mine and I am theirs, yet who?
I shall be gone by summer’s end
One way or another
Or another.
.
and who forgets the forgotten?
Pingback: The Fatigue of Doing Nothing – A Palk in the Wark