I can see him standing there

Sill resting so often

needing neither light nor dark

a permanent memory

written in the physical world

grooves worn so deep into the flesh

of experiences; narrow;

but alive even after 

Death.

The soundtrack of 
those past lives
alight and breathing sweet tobacco
air held cloying on the skin
reminding you of exactly
from whence and wherefore 
You exist.
the product of memories
Once (and again) visceral.

Staccato cobblestone thrum
as an anxious heart
beating now and only
because their’s did so
first
at last we find the bottom
of things so easily seen
from such a distance
but never giving the 
attention to the truth of 
this family, an afterlife for
40 years
days and nights passing
shuffled from the same deck
And along the same narrow path as 
His father.

All things gathered
eventually, inevitably dispersed 
Out of entropy arises from
intentions waning and 
following the path cleared 
momentum’s own gravity
holds order until
the scales tip and kinetic is less than
potential
finds it’s zenith in the depth
of the heart’s chaos

Here, it is from which
we grab the compass’s waypoint
and go
building a new momentum
and the gravity of each movement
Spilling life into itself
the heart beats still
impelled by
the perfect 
combination
of
kinetic and potential

Our energies 
in constant balance
never all or nothing
even if memory’s only marker
is one never again seen
because it once was
it will
Ever be.