Walk with me along the cove of dusk's forgotten
stars.
The path is lit with bygone nods to battled
inner wars.
The trail is blazed through backwards time,
before the world was old.
You'll see the soul you thought you had, the one
you used to hold.
I think the world was different then, or was it
only me?
A backwards glance reveals a well of ink-black
memories.
Somewhat faded, somewhat dark, but standing all
the same.
The stories change with piling years, as if you
never came.
In and out you’ve woven through the myriad of
time,
Here you cut in front of me, and there you
jumped the line.
You grabbed my hand and tore across the
narrative we wrote,
But now I see the jagged lines, the ships that
couldn’t float.
Yet burrowed in the glowing coals along the
rugged trail,
The silver thread of laughter weaves its music
through the wail.
Survivors of a storied past are receptacles of
souls--
The ones we loved, the ones we lost, the ones
that left us cold.
While battered red with bloody scars from every
opened heart,
The way is clearer looking back—you almost see
the start.
The pain remains a slicing shard between a wince
and smile,
Yet warmth pervades with passing days, and every
carried mile.
You might be made of someone else, or used to,
anyway,
And now you see the story stretch across the
moonlit bay.
The cove of stars collects the fractured
fragments of them all,
Heavy burdens, floating sighs, a vision in the
squall.
It’s all collected whispers of a story not yet
told,
An ever-growing memory of those who made you
bold.
So walk with me along the cove of dusk’s
forgotten stars,
And know the radiant legions made immortal in your scars.
