Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter

Tuesday, January 20, 2004


The reflection never goes away really,
still there someplace in the wishing,
it's the first brightness to find, an
everpresent sentinel for all its shapes
and status. I whisper alone how tall
you stand hovering before the break
of today, look who provides company
in the presence of such well-earned
solitude... For some, this moment
proves itself a harsh witness, the
reality of bitter chill, forced biting
wind to sear the soul, thinking the
reflection has gone when it has only
been hidden from sight by change.

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