In Quiet, Solitary Places.

By: Artem

In quiet, solitary places

Remembering at once, the faces

Of people whose rhetoric graces

Have mattered once, and then their traces

Appear in memory, their cases:

Still silent, live between these spaces.


I stumble hurriedly on matters

That in expedience of patterns

Regain importance: futile battles.

And in the moment un-re-linked

I miss and make these thoughts, rebuilt:

I miss, as thoughts that have appealed

To conscious memory, regain the unrevealed.


In quiet, solitary places

I lack the strength to see the faces

Whose solemn bondage to these places

Retain all those soft-spoken phrases

Rebuilt by my, much fainter, graces.


But in that moment of new birthing

When Dawn of Hope retains its worthing,

I joyously relive the traces

Of what regained I, of these faces.

INQUIETS
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