Setting The Table

Visions of days past loom like distant memories
When I would gather them

Songs of passion, dreams of a different shore – a way for us to be – that seemed within reach

A heart that beat with affect and hope, open and seeking – dashed – yet like the phoenix,
Rising from the ashes
Flying again into your heart.

The gravity of ashes now speak: “lay here”
Rebirth – a distant belief
Voices of sunrise silenced
Visions of setting the last table become the heart’s

Visions. Songs. Dreams. Heart.
Has the Song found it’s end? Is the table to be

The Vision still has its time. Here . . . A spark.

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