Nathan AM Almeida

29 October 2019

Memories are built up and worn down,
Stacked together and blown apart,
Sifted into layers or into dust
Like so many waves of sand or sandstone.
Mystery is found and lost. I lost myself here once,
Searching the dark places between the stars.
Meaning is made under the illusion that
Time is not eternal. Let the dead bury their dead.
I saw the truth, held in the palm
Of your stretched-out hand
Wavering in the distance like a mirage
Under the setting desert sun.