The Loss of Loss

So many things that were filled with intent only to be lost. A face. Some thoughts. The way you smile at nothing and everything. Plans laid or plans hoped for and created in my mind. Meeting and understanding the places and people you are from.

And not one part do I want to lose. Even as the fog of time collects its white figures upon you I imagine you again. Recreate from inside who you were. And with each simulacra the image becomes blurry. Seeing through muslin, hoping to see who you really are now. Not wanting to accept the present as it is, but living in a false future created alone from yearning.

I am still too scared to let that veil drop. The future is a place I do not know. How can it be as comforting as the past I drag with me now?

As long as this wake washes behind me I cannot know.

When the sun sets you do not hold on to its light. You watch the stars and the moon move over you.

The sun will rise again.