Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter


The Past Is Silent

The past is silent,

An old film.

There are memories but no voices.
Pictures, filtered,
Fade in and out
With a rare combustion of colour.
We have forgotten more than we remember,
Something, everything,
Lost along the way.
It is not a path
Because we didn’t choose it
We just found it.
Maybe it is better for that.
There is sound in the present,
A noise that wants
And craves our attention,
An audible passing of seconds,
Uncountable and unpredictable.
Nothing about them is infinite.
They will count our years
When we have gone
And make up their own memories of us.
The future is silent,
Form it to your will.


For Kara, on her birthday, 30th March 2014

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