Is it Enough?

Now the summer has passed.

It might never have been.

It is warm in the sun,

But it isn’t enough.

The leaves were not burned.

The boughs were not broken,

The day clear as glass,

But it isn’t enough.

---A. Tarkovsky

Is it not enough that we were young once, that even though we are old now we still remember what beauty is, that there is an "up" and a "down"?

Why does time always take you away? Is it not true that real time is the image of your return.

Do you remember how you drew a blue star on the wallpaper? How you were caught because I said I didn't know how to draw them?! Why is it important to know how to draw?

Or how you broke the leg of the old shire horse on the top shelf, next to the Qur'an (which no-one read)? But he was propped up against it, so that no-one would see him broken. All this might never have been, but was.

Do you remember how you wanted me to drown you, so that there would be no time between us? How I ran across the silver water to the tree, reaching out for the hollow, where the loved one waits, hides. Do you remember this, Daphne?

Is this the imagined time I never possessed, the lost future of my dreams, or is this the childhood that awaits me, when all souls are one?

This is how I like to think of him,a boy dancing on the stone cottage floor, outside time, oblivious , ecstatic, with his future greatness as unimaginable as the sorrows that came with it.

God, it is enough that I walk in this haze, hearing but not seeing the crows up above, then their silence, like points of blackness; enough that the warm sun comes to me and rests on my back through a glass-a glass tinged with memory and desire.