A Memory Cured

She came to me 

as a diseased memory,

softly held at the edges

of spacetime.

She was everywhere,

yet nowhere,

something unseen

in the brilliance

of the Grand Central Sun.

Here I stand,


shaking off

the ashes

of my yesterday death.

We were always meant to meet


at this great pinpoint,

a short phrase,

whispered into the past,

never forgotten;

a returned memory.

Ahead we trip,

into an unknown

we never planned,

an unknown

that was part of God’s

ever story,

already planned,

already told,

relishing in our

deep surprise;

a memory cured.

Until that now,

you’ll be a stream away,

a bubbled shift

onto the shores

of the next bardo;

the comfort of

a friendship secured,

even if distanced;

a memory ensured.

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