Buried

I should leave it behind me,
this lost story of old.
This aching page of forgotten glory,
and empty space.

I hold sand like it was brick between my fingers,
then stand surprised it fell through.
Everything I thought I knew,
widdles so quickly away.

I should force my intuitions
to finally take the reins.
Digging holes that reach the center of the earth
throwing all portraits of history down–

to rest.

I should leave it behind me,
all the insensitivity forced beneath my feet.
Smoldering wood leaving scents that speak,
preaching of distant lands and futures that should have been.

I should leave it behind me.
Because I cannot bend back
to reach what is now buried
without permanently twisting,

to never be the same.