Through faces lost in time
I search for fragments of a memory.
And what do memories do?
it blends happiness in pain
and spits out half dead life.
But the forest where the trees scream
where wind is silenced by leaves
one does not need a memory to find their way
First they acknowledge being lost
then they tell the trees to shut up
and ask the wind the way
the leaves are anyway dead
Who cares for the dead
the living have so much in common
to laugh, complain and cry
No wonder they bury the dead