We lived and loved as one where both would rise or sink upon the tides,
We captured magic in a bottle and it was ours to drink and ours to rise.
I wonder lonely trodden earth in your shadow, chasing ghosts,
In our short time filled with memories in such abundance which i now feed off like fruit gently twisted and plucked from the host.

Over time you can find nourishment in the loneliest of places,
Though scant details left can no longer shape those distant faces.
A newly discovered memory washed up on those abandoned forgotten shores would become a long lost feast welcomed home,
As with any family, lover or companion which found its way back over you beaten track you once left to roam.

With joy and tribal animalistic celebrations I would dance around the fire until its dying embers,
Then greedily lift and suckle at that unexpected gift and consume that fruit from the vine as dormant sparks ignite and the mind remembers.
Its very essence would trickle out and find its way along the dead seas and ravines of my emaciated lips,
Then fall and pool unto the ground in its abundance.

As if a withered oak finds its bark stripped from its core from countless seasons,
Hold on.
And if you have to wither yourself and recede into those dark cold crevices, devoid of reason,
Hold on.
For in countless ages to pass you may wake again, venture out, set roots and flower once more in all your glory.
Innocent and happy in your tiny world your building at the heart and start of your new infant story.