Mother

Mother

Every day angels depart; evil does not feel their presence passing.
The hurt that so many souls convey, in my heart they are trespassing.
That harrowing sorrow is forgotten for the salvation of mankind.
Evil is without a trace; you would think that joy was so bitterly kind.
So, we are.  In a transparent prism our eyes meet as if time rhymed.

There is a memory on the windowsill, I left it there, then disappeared.
I was lost there until the window began to offer the world in vibration.
The memory has been lost many years now, begat in sterile celebration.
No thought created, nor a tree planted, no action that said I was here.
So, I ‘am.  I now believe that the memory was you, being part of me.

01AUG22