The past does not leave us.
Pull upon a loose spider silk
Dangling in the breeze from
The dim corners of your room,
Memories and visions past will appear.
They reside feyly stacked in dusty corners
Of these old groaning and leaning walls
Within our cedar sided-cabin here
Among the misty rainforest of our hearts.
Our memories lay, waiting for the pulling,
Tangled among the silken spider webs, as
We count the days and knots for the remembering.
With a gentle pulling on these stacked and jumbled,
Silken electric lines wrapped warmly about
Our beating hearts, we will reveal some few things
Residing in the corners of these from our musty chambers.
From The Log of The Grey Goose 