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Soul to the Moonlight


Can you see it
Dwelling within my soul
That silent memory
Hurting me internally
And as I see it
There trembling in its mystery
I walk slowly
And touch it, it burns me
With a deep intesity that I run
That I cry, and do not return
And chose to forget its mystery

And I sit down, with the flowerpots behind me
And stir my teacup in the shadowed sunlight
Many years later
And notice my hand shaking
It is the memory
Resurfacing, just as I stir my tea
And I forget

And then as I plant the flower
The following spring
In the pots, the hot sun
Causing beads of sweat on my forehead
I notice my breath is gone
Not because of the weather
But the silent memory

And as I watch the tv, I realise
The memory does not go
The memory will return
And the only way to resolve it
Is to show its
Soul to the moonlight.

Don't run from it, turn and face it.

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