The villainy of remembrance, that
cruel joke played out over time, over
and over we sit and suffer the harsh
echo’s of a life lived in darkness, in
the emptiness between wishing and
believing.

We are the seconds
the minutes, the hours
the long eventual belief
that life was always ours

The clouds part every so often, they
unhide a knowing sun, a warmth of
understanding, the vibrant truth we
know…who we are without shadow
stain or deeply inscribed reason
for not being

We are the echo’s, the  
reverberation of heartbeat
and tiny bits of knowledge
that makes us complete

Knowing the sun exists on cold dark
days, an endless vista of sameness,
we part the clouds in thought, in our
dreams we let the warmth fall slowly on
an upturned face, and we return
to living

We are always, we are
now and we are ourselves
the dreams that live inside
just us and no one else