Even if I’ve walked this way
in ages past, or will in time
to come – I can’t explain a
pungency of thought that
thrills my consciousness.
Familiar as the scene
remains words to capture
it escape – flee fitfully before
catharsis of its potency has
time to come to pass.
All purity in images that
lasted years in future memory
are cast aside, where words
exist a game is played to trip
my tongue;
I know it not for what it is
but pain absurd invades along
the bermes of memory that
failed to grip and hold
these powerful terms.
If this is Presque vu, I almost
see the fate you have in
store for me; I won’t
complain – it is the same
I have in mind for you.
© 16 June 2008, I. D. Carswell
in ages past, or will in time
to come – I can’t explain a
pungency of thought that
thrills my consciousness.
Familiar as the scene
remains words to capture
it escape – flee fitfully before
catharsis of its potency has
time to come to pass.
All purity in images that
lasted years in future memory
are cast aside, where words
exist a game is played to trip
my tongue;
I know it not for what it is
but pain absurd invades along
the bermes of memory that
failed to grip and hold
these powerful terms.
If this is Presque vu, I almost
see the fate you have in
store for me; I won’t
complain – it is the same
I have in mind for you.
© 16 June 2008, I. D. Carswell
