In time, in space.
In mem'ries of place.
This beautiful now
concedes with grace.

Nothing will last
that lives in the past
But the ghosts and the voices
whose lines you cast.

A fearful mind will leap into a lover's arms and take the innocent figure of the child that lurks inside. It will put off thinking, feeling, living, for the evasion it finds in play.

When fearing people love fearing people, it is the fear that acts between them, the fear that does the loving. And the fear that does the fighting, the questioning, the hiding and the lying. Until love becomes malevolent game - a war you can't retreat from.

We have nothing to fear but fear itself. For fear is enough to be afraid of.

I can almost see you. Faded, but the colors remain. Muffled, but all the meaning you meant to give me is still living there in the stone, the moss.

And in the shadows you weep, but not quietly. The shadows here are loudest when these human eyes are empty, gasping for the daylight they left at the door.

What I remember of you lies in the fields between where we watched each other. The blossoms in the spring, the leaves in the fall. And your eyes in fixation as Polaris in the sky.