The Heart’s Labyrinth

near apartment

Last night I dreamt
of the islands of forgotten loves
half Venice half Morocco
I followed and ran
through labyrinthine streets
always losing glimpses caught
of those I’d left behind in life
whose feelings I hadn’t guessed
or whose words had held significance
I’d moved too fast to understand
sometimes my chase
would end in an empty cul-de-sac
or a locked door
impossible steps downwards
leading out under the sea
which glittered high on the horizon
ever-present awash with longing
but sadder still were the conversations
with the friends I did re-find
always standing alone
in some shop or square
un-aged, unchanged since
the day I left them and yet
strangely dead our
empty words petered out
a phrase half-said, mumbled
misunderstood, eyes becoming
glazed and distant, disinterested
and I would turn bereft again
back to the endless alleyways
stalked by immeasurable loss
until beyond it all
confronting me at the final quayside
I saw a thousand other islands stretched
into the distance, unreachable
in each of which I knew
that a version of me
would be lost and searched for
by somebody else
the feeling washing
into me like the waves:
that hurt can never be undone
that none of us can ever truly
find each other.


This entry was posted in Architecture, Art, History, Photography, Poetry, Psychology, Travel, Uncategorized, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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