Lemniscate

All past lives reveal themselves in the erosion of years,

strata on a cliffside, naked for all to see. The rubble sits

on the ground, all past possibilities jumbled in a heap.


Who were we then? It's hard to say. Were we strangers?

Lovers? Friends? Enemies? We are the ghosts of history's

heavy hand, basking in the glow once more.


Sunlight warms our skin, life busies itself with the usual

tasks of living. We are the forces elemental drawn to

life by divine breath, sustained by the guiding hand


that draws water from the well. We drink freely and

thirstily from it, sating desire, the need that bounds

itself to us, like a calf suckling from its mother.


Waves crash with a steady ease as another layer is

revealed. What new history is there to learn? What

truths hidden are now unbound?


Our hands touch ancient rock, a humbling grace

oft forgot. The past and present are all one,

nature in accordance with herself.