Rite to Know
Ed Blundell
A half remembered reality of something that was before,
Haunts me with shadowed fragments locked behind Time’s door.
A misted, dim reflection in memory’s cracked mirror face,
Taunts me by almost showing that distant, different place.
Bound by chords of concrete, that silken, silver thread,
That ties me to the stake of now and holds me in my head.
A prisoner of the present, seeking, searching for the key,
To open the door and step beyond to a changed alternative me.
