The Fireworks at the End of the Year Dissipated

In the Forgotten, Deep Abyss Now

I’d Rushed to Plant a Birch

Before I too Forget

Envisioning it into this, State of Grace

Flowing Freely Like the Wind, Clean like the Clouds

where does it lead???  Not my photo…

Before I Forget My True Love

I Shall, Carve Out the Stones

For it to Become, the Repetitions of Day & Night

For it to Become, that Constantly Overflowing & Receding Tide

Before I Forget the Journeys

I Shall, Finish Up Those Incomplete Trips

Whether it be that I Shall, Get Off at the Far-Off Stations

Or Staying Put, in that Nostalgic Rendezvous

I Shall, Stack Up the Words

left… not my photo…

Into Fortresses of Poetry

Before I Forgot the Words Completely

So Tight, that the Wind Can Even Pass Through it

Forgetting had, Become This Brand New Sort of

Ignorance and Blank Pages

I’d Become, that Homeless Cloud

Paralyzed in the Skies of the Cities

After That Night I’d Swum Out of the Cabin

Being Cold and Alone, Lost, in the Darkness

This, is a sort of a loneliness, that we all must cope with, because we will all, one day, be gone, and, what, is it that’s, left behind of us??? We are the ones to decide that!