bhagdave

Every so often it bursts opens up that part of me where history hides memories of pain wrapped in a scent or in the lyrics of a song or a day in the calendar or thought of a time past or compassion for a ghost long dead.

I sat it came, light headed no thoughts but words induced by life, reality lights my soul, ignites, with music but where does it go? When try I might to conjure the word that wont come the block that cramps my mind