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And Yet, Eons Old, I Still Grieve

17 Feb

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How long must I yet mourn
for this angel I once held?
As if mountains have risen
from the bowels of earth
at the time she was made,
and have since then crumbled
into rubble of broken stones,
long after she was lost to me;
mourning her has not bound me,
and yet, eons old, I still grieve.

How many years is a lifetime?
Her memory has all but faded;
now, e’en in mere traces of her,
tho’ distant and unaccounted for,
her breath o’er my flesh still stains,
lingering in recesses of my mind;
the light she instilled in my soul
has all but cooled in her shadow,
and I now hold another in hand,
and yet, eons old, I still grieve.

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Posted by on February 17, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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