Just the ambivalence of not
Having the security of memory
Of the time-folded moment.
Lapsed, carried on a ferry
To a far-away land
No recollection, no ribbon-tied
Bonanzas of little fables
With a message at the end.
No fortune cookie endings, no aphorisms
To knot, the idiosyncracy of knowing
There is something and yet
The dimensions and the occupancies
Appear to slip away like run-off.
And yet in these forgotten trails
There lies blooms of forget-me-nots
Like the source of a river
Beneath the fog. When the heart knew implicitly
To charge the body with
And life is no bunny
It is the axiological retention
Of time, in an enclosed place
That drifts anterograde
Worth is just an arras of a yesteryear
Dipped in sweet nostalgia
To indulge as a confectionary.