We talked about the human condition,

how certain tendency

would remain years later,

the same,

decades of programmed imagination,

falling into the same pattern

some unforgotten imprinting of our soul.

 

Yet tonight as I stand here

on the same ledge of forty years ago,

I wonder what really has changed,

oh there is the picture that I once did create

together not alone,

altered forever now

with only speculate conclusion.

 

Tonight I wonder of deception,

the loss of meaning,

the further resounding defeat of purpose,

when two people no matter

still become lost in their own travel,

having let go of the other

until just a glance inside the wake

of every cresting wave,

when then they do disappear

no longer seeing …

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© Thom Amundsen 2/2020