spanning the ages
the gap between a
thousand years
as
small
as the space
between
my
fingers
two
rings
one giver
one forever
a thousand years.
one, from
last week.
the other, from
eleven hundred
(give or take
three hundred years).
one
gold,
one
bronze.
the latter simply worked
and set
with
enamel,
the former
in the '
proper' way
that
this day and age demands.
funnily, the older
has more ties to
celts
and
all that that entails
than the newer
ever dare dream of.
but the newer is the
blatent one, saying
look at me and what i am,
in the
blazing fascination
society today
has taken
with
that which is my old blood.
(i sometimes
think the old piece
sits and laughs.)
one was given simply in
friendship,
a token to the
love we that time
didn't know we had, and thus
willingly
surrendered.
(well, mostly willing. being
married off
usually
dampens plans.)
the latter given lately
a
claiming, to the world,
of what we've
found
after
chasing
and
cycling
and
hunting
and
wandering
for too too long.
oddly, though,
to us
the older
means the more.
it's
purer somehow,
it's
truer us.
the latter
in
craftsmanship is
beauty.
but it's a
token
to the
world,
a
card we had to play
when
gambling
for our
lives.
(that gambling is a
battle
we don't yet
know
if we've
won,
or
lost.
doesn't matter though,
now we
live, or
die,
together)
the
tiny tiny distance
between my
fourth finger,
and the
last...
in that space
metal from two
ages
meets
and
touches.
and those
metals,
and those ages,
oddly enough
are in some way
one
and not
seperate
after all.
my own personal time capsule of lives