Thursday, March 10, 2011


Beneath the tattered remnants
Of a ragged half-moon sky
I hear it like a love-song
And it makes me want to cry
As moments trickle swiftly
Through my empty, out-stretched grip
I cannot hold them near me
One by one they softly slip
Into a phantom ocean
History’s vast and unclaimed sea
Yet its depth is but a teardrop
When contemplating eternity


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