Notes About The Poem
"Yet always, a paradox of persistence in decay."
"As time moves on, Yet leaves its echo behind in ripples." quoyes by author.
Listen to poem:
Yet Always
We stand holding hands
steadfast in our persistence—
time moves ever on,
yet always, leaves its echoes,
rippling through what yet remains.
The river flows on
without shape, frame, form or cause
spreading down and out,
yet, always its form returns
to drifting, meandering.
Despite the bad breaks
the past's worth holding on to—
a memento thread
to the ebb of resistance
refusing full surrender.
Truth softens in doubt,
in what is yet to be said,
hardens in silence,
gathering weight while alone,
gelling its soft resin core.
A crack opens flaws
yet, it always finds a way
for light to enter
shattering the perfect form
revealed as mere deception.
I loosen my bounds
while constraining the fracture,
as promises pull—
in multiple ways at once
yet always comes to being.
As yet, still unmade,
leans into what it dissolves—
time loosens its hold,
to let quiet undoing
cure resistance, yet again.
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