In the fields
of fire and
roses
the two of us
lie down beside
the conflagration
of petals blown
on the wind
of cinders
riven from bushes
both burning
and burnt
of histories
unspoken and
without lessons
of people we
have not cared
to know
In the fields
of diamonds
and basalt
just one of us
stands,
uncomfortable
against the
open vistas
of sharp, jagged
stone whistling
with the wind
of coarse dust
riven from
mountains both
bald and eroded
of stories we
have remembered
wrongly
of wisdoms we
have failed to learn
Patrick M. Tracy
7/3/12
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
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2 comments:
This left me wondering about the stones that I remembered wrongly, hence, the wisdom I've failed to learn. At my age, that certainly becomes a challenge. M
Some memories have to cure for decades before wisdom is attained. Perhaps some are never reconciled.
Bobby-T
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