The smell of new rain
permeates the air
the first heavy drops raise little puffs of dust
in the dirt.
Covered porches protect her
from the storm outside
and the dread inside
where benign neglect reigned
ennui and death strained
children’s hearts
threatened to pull apart
the joy sleeping in their wondrous souls
that lived beyond the confines
of the dark brooding grip of family
inside the ancestral home.

All things have passed
Or perhaps they will
I can no longer recall
Passing through the void as I did

I know not where I arrived
Or if I am anywhere at all
I have forgotten most things
If I ever knew much to begin with

I do remember a string of words
An inseparable feeling attached to them
"I will never forget you"
Though who said it eludes me

That feeling has not left me
Though the moment has been lost
I must continue on through this void
Wherever it may take me

I cannot betray this memory
That last bright star in my mind
Amid a sea of ink black darkness
For it is all that remains

As I traverse this void
Here beyond all space
I whisper dryly
I will never forget you
Though, I do not know your name

For I know that you remember me

The dry tundra calls to you
Whispering a phrase
A memory that flows
In between and through
The forest needle and pine
Something lies beyond
Far past the snow and sterile ice
Over the great mountains
The places of our birth
Nothing more than an inclination
That all we hope there to be
Has not yet been made know
That the secret hidden for ages
Has in turn hidden us within it
Preserving us in a way unseen
That when the time does come
In far flung ages hence
All things might be revealed
And the barren wastes
Turn to fruitful gardens

Taking the story forward,

there are these people, all along the edges
of tyrannies in states of peace,
outlaws and anarchaltypes,
heroes for the meek,
the meekest of them all.
The man who thought, he shot
Liberty Balance,
edgewise, or we are ******* in wrong,
but, he fired off a round
of conjecture
f'sure,
no sweat, see the space we cease being,
doing we the *******,
and we morph, cool way to say, we change

we become the point of life. We the living.
All our ancestors inherited the wind.
We hold it in our fists. Be gentle.

The slow deep breath of reciprocating remorse
The unforgettable we can't account for nor atone
As the warmth from time's tale
turned as cold as marble , the choir sang ,

"A Whiter shade of pale"