loosing faces

One looses faces and voices in a lifetime, as one looses the passage of time. 

"Has it been six months or seven?" a lost lover might ask themselves.  

Was it his laugh that had shook her, or his eyes? 

A moments pause and one recalls--the memory returned by the turning over of a picture or hearing the familiar tink of a song. 

"Of course it has been six--you swore you'd never forget the day." 

Eyes and laughter flash against the backdrop of your eyes--slow and colored in the shades of remembrance, brown and gray.

You give a lot to make things stay--you give love and kisses and long stares. You forsake better judgement for it--living with out taking account. All attempts to rewind and replay time, like some VHS out of sync and date. 

Now, instead of embracing today, your letting tomorrow go on and on and on in pursuit of yesterday.  Like a record player on a starry night; the party guests dance and lap up minutes like champagne. They cling into the night--their rhythms fantastic. 

I've learned in my loosing of faces and voices, discovering the freedom of beginnings and ends. 

Why let the music drone on and on--you can't neglect the coming of Morning. 

She peeks her eyes over the horizon; she rolls out of bed and with sudden purpose, wakes the world. 

You drink now like ambrosia--you believe in its relevance. How much safer to believe in something that has a measure of beginning and end. Even the god's, with all their nectar, rallied and fought for time. 

I find safety in the temporary, seems to keep my heart less open to the black hole of the moment--the moment where you give and give in hopes of forever. 

Nothing is forever. 

Be careful of being sucked into the void,  loosing your sudden purpose to wake the world.

ceb