If I Forget A Spell of Light and Mist

If I Forget  A Spell of Light and Mist 


Don't get angry with me if I lose a word somewhere in the middle of a sentence,
If I stand there with a distant look like the moon reflected in the waters of a deep lake,
Something magical and cruel is happening in the secret garden of my waking mind,
Like a flower that forgets its color but never forgets how to grow and reach toward the light.

I am not lost in darkness, I am not a shadow without a name or a face,
I am still me, the same soul that loved and cried and laughed beneath the very same sky,
Only my inner sky is painting itself now in colors that are paler and much thinner,
And sometimes the stars shift from their places and I no longer know how to find them.


I try with everything I have to catch the thought before it turns to smoke and disappears,
I try to hold the golden thread of memory before it melts away into the morning air,
I know you grow weary watching me search for words that fly out of me like birds in fall,
I know you repeat yourself three times over and that patience too has its own finite edge.

But please be the gentle wizard who never rushes the spell toward its ending,
Be the stream that flows softly over stones without frustration that the stones won't move,
For I did not choose this slow transformation like the wax of a candle that melts away,
And I am not turning my back on our love — it's only time casting its strange and quiet spells.


I am not the only one who has ever wandered into this enchanted and unhurried forest of forgetting,
I am not the only one whose map has faded in places and whose paths are covered now in moss,
Millions of souls before me have walked through the same long tunnel of light and of mist,
Millions of hearts have beaten slower as the magic of living quietly changed its rhythm.

There is no charm powerful enough to stop the wheel of time from turning as it does,
There is no prayer or ritual that can freeze a moment and hold it in amber forever,
Old age comes like a wise and weathered witch who takes a little but gives something back,
And the only talisman we have against her is our hands woven together in the night like roots.


Let us live in love and tenderness like two magic candles lit from the very same flame,
Let us lean on one another like two ancient towers connected by invisible bridges of gold,
Let us know that no matter what the mist steals from the crystal palace we call memory,
It cannot steal the warmth in your eyes when you look at me and call me back home.

Because I still recognize you even when everything else becomes unclear and trembling,
Because your face is carved into the deepest place in my being where forgetting cannot reach,
Because your eyes are the first spell I ever learned and the last one I will ever hold onto,
That place where no forgetting hex has power and no mist is ever allowed to settle in.


And if the day comes when I wake and no longer know what season is moving past the window,
When I reach for words and they fly out of me like moths of light just before the sunrise,
When I no longer know if it is morning or a dusk from some other life I must have lived,
Place your warm palm on my face and speak my name to me like an ancient magic formula.

Because in your voice I find myself again every single time like a lost echo finding its cliff,
Because in your touch I remember who I was and who I might still become in the days ahead,
And even if my mind becomes a castle with empty rooms and windows thrown open to the wind,
You are the light that stays burning in the tower — warm and real and mine forever.


And when at last the curtain of this life descends over the long and beautiful stage we shared,
When the final chapter closes itself and the ink dries on the very last page we ever wrote,
I want us to be for each other a shelter and a mirror and a forgiveness and a final prayer,
I want us to know we loved each other with all our magic and all our courage and all our light.

Because it doesn't matter how many memories the mist carried off in its cloak of night and mystery,
It doesn't matter how many rooms went dark inside the castle of light we used to call our thinking,
My heart always knows the road that leads back to you through any darkness and any forgetting,
And you, now and always and forever, are the only spell of mine that never comes to an end.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

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