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bound not to fret
o’er sorrows passed by
or bones where wings used to be
turned not by loss
to remember the gain
or the promise
of eternities

saved not to verse
or hurried by life
as was gifted
to days muddled thru
forgotten the lust
of a long ago wish
or stars pinned by dreams
to the blue

grieved not by touch
no longer the same
or visions of hope almost gone
a path through the woods
by home a new way –
of time walked alone

cured not by longing
or stilled by regret
taking where arms never could
keep you much longer
in yesterday’s chains –
and garner your words

deemed not
by prophecies
left for another
or stories retold of your youth
asking of consequence
come to decide
as somebody’s version
of truth

birthed to illusion
of mysteries freed –
as futures are mourning this loss
warmed not the comfort
of sleep yet to come
or whispers negated
by moss

Author’s Note: For much of my life, I’ve been awakened
by words, flooding from far off places. Quite often, the result
is something like this. I refer to these as Emily moments ~
and Emily words. I’m good with that, as long as it never requires
a change in hairstyle. 🙂