flying with silences

i look to the night moth when the wind
waits patiently in the susurrus of leaves
to borrow the silence of wings that
carries me back and onwards, into the sigh
of memories, moments, remembrances, shared
shards of a life and experience that are lost
irreversibly. under the cover of midnight green
i will put match to reminiscences, so
my chains will burn deeper and leave
scars on the matter of bones, and
only when curious archeologists pick up a fragment
they will see what the patterns of grey pain and
silences, and the buried burning have done.
but that is not now, that is not under this canopy
of star twined leaves, where the bats sing
to the rustle of maples and poplars, seeking
the huge moth who evade them on wings of
silences into the past, present and what will be.

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