Remembrance of Things Past - Ved Buens Ende

This sweetness that surrounded us, and bled with us…

We touched it, and it smelt far worse than weeds…

I have touched winds…

I have touched sorrows…

(I touched the devil once…)

… And I have touched the past…

It was like the love of thorns, like the beauty of dead summer

But I, the lurker, the carrier of wounds outlived

It

I have left now.

(Have I not?)

The thorns embraced us

While resemblance dragged us further down

It burried our minds

None shall outlive this rhyme…