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Wachinagi

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Bronze Poet

An end restarted; a dream revisited.

An end restarted; a dream revisited.
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(Here on this site, I choose to begin this again.  My hands move slower than they once did.  Better slowly than the fevered pace that once threatened to overwhelm me.  My thoughts as always, turn to her.  Still I wonder how she fares.  What power we give to others over our feelings!)

You healed my heart and broke it all in the space of a single breath. 
You didn’t even notice that I was there, paying such rapt attention to your words. 

Lost time is angry tonight, cursing me. 
Turns and twists that I never saw, now so long behind me that there is no strength left to return. 
It is the most potent joke.  There can be nothing that is not affected by what was, but still I can dream. 
I can dream of a moment in time, held and still held.  Perfected by all its flaws, needed and wanted. 
Pure in its filth and sin; vile in its love and passion.  There can be no escaping this truth, even if it is a lie. 
The sun sets low in the sky, me above it.  It feels as though that sinking light is stealing something important from me. 
I return to cold and dark, as I must.  You never knew.  I can never let you know.  But I so desperately want to tell you.  But once those words are formed and set free, they will trap us as even now we are trapped. 
There can be no future as we dream it, only as it is.  But still I can dream.

Even now, I think on the contradictions of us.  When we most need each other, we cannot be there. 
Either we aren’t ready, or we have no choice.  Seeing and not seeing, both;
They are a hurt visited again and again foolishly, or bravely.  Which that is, I am uncertain. 
Do we return to be loved despite the hurt or because of it?  I can’t say that I am certain, but I can still dream. 

Great love and great pain are all we ever have for each other, and it would have been enough for me. 
I would have allowed myself to be consumed by that fire if it meant for a time I could feel the warmth of you. 
Now so many years later, it is a joke on me, and on you. 
We who turn from warmth, holding the edges of sanity in the dark, screaming at nothing and hoping no one hears us. 
I wish so many good things for you, but still I want you. 
How can I want you, and still want you happy, knowing what I know?  I cannot be with you, but I wish. 
I want you to be happy and safe, but I wish.  I can’t have everything I want, but I can dream.





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