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Apr 06, 2009 21:24

Sometimes a photo is all it takes,

an image,
a collection of color and space,
shadow and shape,
gathered in place,
and held together by
    time.
It rhymes with memory - not the word, but the meaning.
A symmetry of seeming sameness.
I was not there, but I know this scene.

It is synonymous with my own dreams.

The hues are scarlet, and pink, and turquoise.

Indigo
    and dawn and starlight.
Crumpled t-shirt, skin, and twilight.

Stop.

Now it rhymes with desire - not the word but the meaning.
A symmetry of seeming sameness.
I was not there, but I know this scene.

The imagery matches and I want this.

The hues may change,
the moment might be different,
but this scene will recur in compliment
and in homage.

Life mimics art and art mimics life, and I will kiss you like this to prove it.

Stop.

It now rhymes with prophecy - not the word but the meaning.
A possibility of symmetry to another moment in time.

I will know this scene and it will know its affinity with me.

I learn from history, and I know it repeats.
    Time mimics space mimics time,
and both align in a meeting of lips,
the design of a kiss,
the curves and angles of a moment.

Captured in color and space,
in shape and shadow,
gathered in place,
and held together

by timelessness.

poetry

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