June 6: What Is Gone

What is gone in the end 

is fleeting to begin with, 

is ephemeral as air currents,

is eventually a memory

of something that cannot

quite be recalled but felt

like the thought of breeze

brushing against one’s skin

without context of place

or time or superimposed

categorization or order,

so maybe it’s not really

so much gone as absorbed,

lingering like music weeks

after a concert when notes

still resonate somewhere but 

the tune is just out of reach.

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