There's this quote: "Time is a river, a violent current of events, glimpsed once and already carried past us, and another follows and is gone."
I don't get this game we play.
I find I play anyway.
I thought I was behaving,
moving on more righteously,
learning from my mistakes.
but I cannot speak in planes like you.
my words are butcher's hammers.
Your name slipped out over a long flight,
now it crops up time and again.
In the strangest irony, it isn't you, but you
as a tool. Maybe you believed I saw you that way.
Part of my collection.
So anyway the wonder gnawed at me and I took the practice back up.
More than anything, I valued your soul.
A friend, bright kindred, you made the cosmic ocean less large, more bright,
a spot of light to reference beside me.
But it hurt to see the light go out after us two lights danced in the current together so well.
The hell do I know about it anyway. The dolphins can go bleed on the rocks with you, and I have reclaimed the north country without needing to shovel coal out of my stomach anymore, where once we're butterflies. Im still angry.
But certain things, like mention of outer space, or the VA benefit, or piles of leaves. Like you said, we will always carry a piece of each other. We will always leave a mark.