So the ghosts of our past hold the keys to our heart,
and pay their respects with pain…
An injustice of memory perhaps,
yet what else is there to blame?
Though universally felt, the embers of love
(including the ensuing torments thereof),
may not be entirely delved;
spanning time with arches of fire, it cannot be quelled.
With just one spark; one instance of recognition
to fan desire, the soul is stripped to an aching heart.
As an ember exists amidst the flames,
so too may love have love contained:
One for what was, and will never be-
And one for what is, made radiant
by the wisdom of time and sanctity.
Would be simpler perhaps, understanding fate..,
the hammering of experience on the anvil of our lives
as the forging of our spirit takes place.
(Bryan Garaventa, 2001)
HackPoets 