The Past We Forget

3 Crosses, a photo by Richard Larssen on Flickr.

I remember the last time I visited you, it was the darkest sky of the year - without a single star I tried to find my way to you.

Perhaps I was lost, or at least, perhaps I wished for a lost.

The doubt of meeting you changed into something fearful, that tear the stillness of the moment our eyes met.

Today, I am asking my self, was it really the past that we forget? I can not ask anybody, since our only witness was the emptiness.