Emanation

I am that visitor in your faded memory;
We’re threaded as ancient friends in braided memory.

Once, we strolled in talk on emerald hills;
They dried in drought, and have rarely bladed memory.

Together we work to weave this spanning tapestry;
Once more our gilded threads have aided memory.

Monuments of stone bear witness to ages past,
But only your words shine light on shaded memory.

To gain its home, a dove flies tossed in storm,
Its way home deeply locked in jaded memory.

My heart was crushed with anguish, but now you have come
To lift, with a longer past, my laded memory.

Zahhar is again a shuttle in the loom of time,
Yet not the weaver of his graded memory.