26 June 2008, 9:36 AM
Inspired by this post at Matsu's World and a gift I received a few weeks ago, and finally used today for the first time.
like a river. The surface never ceases
to move, to change, to evolve
from opaque to translucent
gray against black velvet.
it's not a river. Parity disintegrates
at the surface. Smoke evaporates
with nothing below to take its place
but empty air, and the struggle remains
to make meaning where there is naught
but the smell of Cassia,
the knowledge of its origin.
The river rises,
threatens to bear me away in my grief
that a gift cannot be simply a gift,
but a reminder of what cannot be undone,
the slate-wiped-clean I can never attain,
the unanswered prayers I've never let pass
my lips, weary with the weight of regret.