Almost True
Your words throw gravitas
across silent winter skies;
peeping through dusty shades
of lavender clouds
as if ripe for translation.
We have all met before
but we just don’t know it.
These things will remain;
compress & distort
through a corrosive eye
until understood by all.
And isn’t it also true,
that the tracks I leave
are processed by memory;
that I am here
yet seem strangely absent,
until imprints dissolve
like discarded minutiae,
seeping beneath cold soil
in search of a new voice.
©️ Orion Foote
Visions of Orion Poetry 