FAN OF THE PAST
The pink painted fleshy fan of the past
Fluttering in my memory
Like a bellows under forest fires
In a cold and damp spring
Stirs up lost images
From the wandering shadows
Of Persephone’s black realm.
Folding itself up in forgetfulness
We can’t sail back
Through this foggy pain
Nor rekindle the hope
That ignorance once killed
Let only this flickering in darkness
Come and go and ask for nothing.
Can the captain command the sea waves?
We cannot do much
With what destiny has made
Only mend the frayed strands
On the shimmering ends of the shawl of time
A comfort in the lonely cold starless nights
From which we cannot escape
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