There’s that which happened yesterday
and then there’s history, one an echo
and the other a blueprint, a lifetime
lived and lost in a blink of eternity.
The remodeled walls I’ve built
along that horizon have questioned
the shape of the melody, and the answer
is a work of fiction I barely recognize.
What use are the years of memory
if time bullies the frame askew?
What use is a blink if I open my eyes
but once? I waited so long to get here,
but the price is the path I took, now
nothing more than fading footsteps in sand
like a dream fleeing in the morning light.