There was a world
some summers ago--
another senseless epoch
reacting, again, alone on instinct.
I feel meaning that I may never know.
White rectangle words,
singularities in the void,
as time irreversable marches on--
whirling, expanding space-time--
gone but never destroyed.
I remember myself then
as yourself do you alone.
A destiny passed;
unspoken thoughts of familiear feelings;
the other never known.
And what can I do now
as we both suffer of life's strange way,
the very same we love.
Friends, close as the mail flies,
but forever distant as the miles of yesterday.
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