June 19, 1997


This is not forever as nothing ever is, but what would even matter if it was? I hear you’re leaving westward, in a moment time was dear, take me with you next time, your pain is mine to fear. I have only this life, this hand is my escape, in voice I have to pretend as my mind is there to waste. In you I have my fantasy where soul and spirit meet, in you I have tomorrow as children of today, like age is non-existent, my dreams have all been met. Blood became transparent as there lives no meaning to this timeless love for creation known only in ours heads. And still I stand alone as I have always been, I fear to live alone in life I fear the dead. What was there to forgive, the past is nothing less, like your loveliness in form, there is more than what is seen. I have seen most everything.


Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist