Sunday, January 13, 2013

The Disapearance



We caress those things mundane
embrace tightly never to let them go
yet they disappear

Those that resided in it
now don’t remember
or choose to forget
those that never saw it
it never existed

My town, my childhood home
the boy with the gentleness
the girl who we all desired
they now ride upon
the horse with wings

So much has disappeared
into a ream of reveries,
memories now unseen, untouchable
I now reside in the surreal
the nebulous where my own
incarnation I question
where does it exist?

Speak to me, sing to me,
touch me let me feel your presence
tell me I am not an orchid,
that I am not a tree
but you may climb me like one
then I shall know that at least
for this moment

I exist

7 comments:

  1. sounds like an identity crisis - caught in mid-life like i am. :)

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  2. This is very poignant. I love the horse with wings - a liberating way to picture death. Beautiful, my friend.

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  3. Howdy! I could have sworn I've been to this web site before but after going through many of the articles I realized it's
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  4. The other day, while I was at work, my cousin stole my iPad
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  5. Gracias for visiting mi amigas and amigo. and I say this in fear of 'anonimity'.

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  6. This will make a good song, Nene. It's well to realise a moment and not let it pass unnoticed. Because they pass and they are just gone, and sometimes forgotten.

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  7. Thanks for the visit NeNe. Looks like your blog is a place where you are obviously sharing your talent!

    We love COS and go there at least once a summer. Our place is so remote that the grocery store is 110 miles away. (and Wal-Mart too believe it or not). Janey

    ReplyDelete