spanning the ages

the gap between a thousand years
as small
as the space

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,

the tiny tiny distance
between my
fourth finger,
and the last...
in that space
metal from two ages
and touches.
and those metals,
and those ages,
oddly enough
are in some way
and not seperate
after all.

my own personal time capsule of lives

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