is becomes was –

this moment,

a memory.

time passes – regardless the level of involvement.

words you said;

muted colors on a distant canvas –

messages blurred like watercolor in the rain…

once –

on a journey into your garden –

i thought i heard the sound of humming birds –

a thousand butterfly wings creating a melancholy chorus –

and then,

silence…

would this wound heal faster if self-inflicted?

the pain –

less intense?

your departure – more justified?

i guess that i will never know

the answer to the question of you;

(only sky can understand the sun).

reason –

distant mountaintop –  i fear i can never reach…

from here to there

and back again.

(past the other side of now) – to then…

(trees hold their memories;

knots and scars,

an aged leaf holding on past it’s season…)

what is it –

about a winters day –

takes you to that place;

serene,

uncompromised –

a smile with no qualifications,

peace of mind…

(squirrels know the trees’ secrets),

to sit –

for hours in the mid-day sun –

contemplating –

nothing…

oh the rush!

(and still the dying leaf – holds on…)

words you say

mean nothing,

(lip service), and even your eyes –

lie –

down by the river –

where you and I went walking –

(shallow water),

reflecting your (nothing) face –

(façade),

showing your feelings (less than darkness);

nothing is deeper than dark…

as much as – try,

to – care.

much more than do,

to – feel.

inability to respond is more victorious than nonchalance…

restricted?

bound by chains – unseen?

your lack of – want,

more painful than all the knives placed (emotionless) –

in my back!

(derogatory)

your remarks invade the tranquility of space reserved for angels…

who –

regardless your opinion (all opinion is null)

do exist!

here –

come here –

if you dare embark upon the journey;

clear sky –

over hills and plains,

dark valleys….

(to find me –

you first must look…)

i am not he who cowers behind the trees –

no cloak of darkness do i need –

fear – i do not carry on my shoulders…

the armor – once vital –

i have now thrown away –

for words are all you have,

barbs of anguish you hurl at me…

but see –

they

     fall

          like

               feathers

                    on the

                         ground –

silent,

no sound –

save the sighing of pity…

listen –

hear ambivalence take it’s dying breath –

and then,

that sweet peaceful quiet –

interrupted only by the brush of angels wings…

(safe i am – indeed!)