Praeteritum
Does time past germinate in lost stories
its tendrils stir and drill through tender soil,
and breaks the cold clay of deep memories
but reseeds us by impossible toil.
It's Ixion strapped to the poetic wheel
spinning our tales eternally around
but never can words our fates truly seal
until inspiration’s loud thunders sound.
Copyright © Brian Duffield | Year Posted 2019
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