Joshua Harris Poet Prose

In the Amaranthine Era

In the Amaranthine Era

By J. Philip Harris

Of all the echoes that I remember
All the smallish voices that still linger
The precious moments missed which fell through the cracks
like flaking brittle embers 
Short lived and long forgotten
Of all the echoes in my box
Ones I can't seem to shake
They move in pangs of lamentation, of longing, of sorrow and regret
Of all the singing songs
The happy tunes I've missed
Ones my children sang in years unnoticed
Yes, the years of squandered time 
Like run down homes 
The endless ache churns deep within my soul to renovate them
Those avenues are snuffed out flames 
Stamped into the rock of time
The chasm between us is of great
But how my soul longs for clemency 
How I pine for absolution
Now, here in the rags of my life 
Where time has stolen away my verve
Here in the dying down of an old flame
I am stricken with penitence
I am lavished with grief
The stone cannot be rewritten
But it can be forgotten
Extinguished by the One of endless mercy
And there in the Amaranthine era
I will live what once I lost.

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