#196

And of my past,

the lost fool,

the princess in the tower,

the robe hung in the wardrobe,

I can feel it only faintly, faintly…

Rising from this pool of elixir, I feel fresh, awake; awoken, from but a bad dream, keeping with me only the tingling, soft, tender emotions of the past.

The bittersweet, the melancholic sometimes, but from these ashes and embers i feel delighted; delighted, to have seen them when they were still burning wood in the fire.

Now, only smoke, smoke risen from their grave into the clear sea above,

rippling the pool,

joining with the tide,

as their corpse stays here, waving goodbye to them as they depart from port, hoping to rejoin with them someday again,

in another life, to be, another life,

another entity,

another network,

another shared bond of what some may call love, together.