We lost our shackles,
so we could be caged,
inside our dreams
and within our hopes.
I use words carefully
to compose my silence;
my attention is dedicated
to unimportant things.
Once when I was involved
inside your laughter,
it felt as if time echoed
as it did in Armageddon
How frail and weak(!),
do we need to become,
in order to see things
as they appear to us?
As for Our memories -
an herculean task -
that we undertook
to our own distraction,
still binding us together:
"we, accomplices, complied
to always remember
as we always denied..."
