Sunday, February 16, 2014

Be Still, Forever

Be Still, Forever
By: David W. Pedersen

Into a brain, lacking crystallinity, I was told that death moved towards, never away,
and that time was a concept measured in disappointment.
Fleeting.
An escape from all things.
Pushing through.
Youth cannot be recaptured, regardless of clothing, hair, or vicariousness.
Darkness.
A slow fade replaces the seeping raw footage that is life.
There are no senses afterwards.
What can be touched without hands?
No memories.
Silenced voices and a breath underwater.
A mute’s prayer,
in a vacant desert. Pin It
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