Across a bridge of time
We finally observe the once fierce fire
And in
what seemed to be a mere crossroads of coordinated rendezvous
Became an
uncertain journey.
Uncrossing rusted swords
And bringing the light of redemption to the
blackest
Two children have become ancients
As if re-ignited
The old dance begins again
Dancing with the eyes of a
known stranger
What game was played?
The hand that crosses a void for the other
The
fingers that soar and fall in strange familiarity
All at once we descend time
And become the faceless
In the smallest
hours
The dance breaches the most darkest of promises
With new faces we swim the same deep water
And in the briefest of
moments
Time and memory are no more
But for the breaking of the persistence of time
Remain.
But in knowing the irony of the same path we follow
This dance may be the last.
1st December 1997