Questions

With just a breezing thought of you
I found myself stranded.
Scouring the longest valley of
my conscious memory.
If i could play the sweetest song,
would you still want to hear?
Or walk with me the vallis snellius
and keep eachother grounded?
Could you be that ancient oak
perishing next to the acorn?
Would you be that battered sail,
sailing to the storms?

I have been the smoke without flame,
dispersing on the winds.
Then travelled in the high jet streams
to rage the forest fires.
Can you give home to the lost smoke,
that seeks immortal flame?

These questions die before my lips;
the answers will appear.
Can you walk in my buckled conscious,
and make memories from tears?