What Ozymandias Saw

Rooms full of attachments
the dead have long forgotten,
and left to the living,
Mementos and trash piling up,
behind closed doors
Whose energy lingers on,
frozen in potential and longing,
for someone
to draw its psychic touch.
The inevitable moment
that floods the heart with memories
too powerful for vessels to contain.
As fingertips slowly trace the contours,
of objects,
that will be discarded in time.

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