Half-remembered promises
Sink into the past.
Moments in eternal silence
Float by on the breeze.
And every moment is part of a larger meaning.
My friends forsake me like a lost shadow.
We swore this would never happen
For the tender grace of a day that is gone.
But this may be the way it was meant to be.
Shame and pride come in no order,
So I become a keeper of the flame
As a form of self-discipline.
Attaining a new state of being,
While memory whispers to itself
As if this were the last hour of life.
Reality
Has nothing to say.
It calls this beginning the end.
The real end is the journey.
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