Secluded and Eluded, Diluted and Deluded

A period comes
empty echoing
only the voice I use
when no one is listening anymore
singing, screaming, declaring
But simply that which was
which now only is when
It doesn't matter.

So the sounds erupt
but the piece missing remains
poring over some old tapes
reveals it in its glory
but that pursuit is
a quest of the young
and free.

Of course the course of years
in their merciless march
across my crevici and planes
seek to rob the fire
and the piss
and the vinegar
that defined the pursuit of something
that I now understand.

And yet reliving this
trying to capture that moment
or that year or night
when the fires burned high
and the dance carried on
is the pursuit that now
is merely the grindstone
for the hope-flavored grist.