Lost Codices

With luck, someday they may find them-- gently brush back those decades like lover's tears. They will wash those glazed letters-- straighten cracked syllables – discern those once fresh thoughts fired fiercely in the furnaces of poetry. Some may sense those losses-- savor sadness of so much that now seems nothing. In dreams we are always returning-- arching out, moving like silent salmon muscling water as we squirm for existence, barely holding to lives with empty moist fingers.