The enduring ephemerality,
Strung together moments of blissfulness,
Each fleeting in its temporality,
But feeling infinite in wistfulness.

The hands of time spin circles without end,
While memories live in moments discrete.
Some moments blur to a nondescript end,
Moments with you time will never defeat.

Events live so long as not forgotten,
Life’s meaning breaks time’s continuity.
With each breath a new time is begotten,
So time gone lives in perpetuity.

When timeless blissfulness is in the past,
The paradox of time still makes it last.

Would I feel like this if we could reverse time and remember our future?
Would I still carry around my braking, aching heart waiting for you to leave?
Would I stop replaying scenes in my head like the first time we kissed and laying awake all night to hear you breathe?
Or would I instead think of how you set my heart on fire and left me to watch it burn?
Would I read about it on the news?
Watch as media frenzied scavengers lapped up the blood, selfies with the body of a girl who loved to much!
Even in this warped world, where my rose thorn tongue grows around the 4th dimension.
I'd hold on to my last memory, of meeting you for the first time.
My swollen heart and pregnant mind would long for you, a longing that started on that first kiss.

At twilight
I walk down the path through the woods
Carpeted in autumn's nocturnal harvest.
The guiding porch light,
Feebler than the fluttering fire flies, fades.
Smell of fresh decay seduces my will.
Desires that have forever resided in the unattainable future
Now like long parted friends sit around with welcoming smiles.
Curious to commingle with Contentment
I feel the Autumn seep into the woods,
And the woods into my heart.

Never before,  
A weary traveller lost upon
The tortuous timber trail
Felt more at peace.
Wishing to curl up in the cold warmth of the golden fleece.  
The woods will the wind to wrap him in wool of the willow
and tuck him amongst the exposed roots.

An unmarked clock ticks somewhere.
Here the eternal present prevails,
Concealed from the eye of the arrow ,
In the stretch of this malleable moment.
I, in the knowledge that my estranged self
Rests in me, am whole again.
At twilight.