“WHAT WAS IS PAST”

It takes a long time
to remember
what
I'd already forgot.
Dreams
are like
dust stirred by moths.
They flicker free,
float up blinking
solos in spotlight,
and drift away
to darkened clefts
of the mind.
It
takes a long time
to
remember what was
is past,
so don't waste one
moment longer
trying. After all,
the dead don't dream
of us; just dust.

narrative poem written on 12-08-2013 by: on mattkane.com
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