All That's Past

And still some nights you touch my dreams, though all is done and past, it seems. Yet, out of nothing– sheer surprise... I wither when I see your eyes, and all that I'd thought gone at last assaults me, as if I had asked to visit anguish once again, return to how I suffered then. And still you slip behind the veil of sleep, a realm that's soft and frail, and tangle into all that went away, a grief that's through and spent. And yet how fresh it seems from there, that darkened place. So unaware the sleeping heart, so feebly cast— in dreams is bound to all that's past.