You are like the ghost of some fallen angel,
an intangible echo of a soul unknown.
And, within the smallest atom of time
all known things begin to fade of their own accord.
How cold the horror of oblivion within your memory.
I breathed that perfume once, I prayed for it.
The stars looked down speaking in their tongue
(for once without their air of mystery)
I heard a rustle of snow and the distance of a year.
How odd that even in the dark I see your vision
though some far off country calls your name.
I am still deep within your memory you say.
I am still a danger you say.
But, soon I whisper, then silence echoes,
and the page is blank.
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