Of A Life

I never say goodbye to a past life (past life) for each represents someone I love (at least one). There are also the letter books in storage from the time before the internet (yes, there was such a time), but even since the cyberspace invasion there are many previous lives (previous lives) and if I gave a letter to each one to signify identity, so far there would be E and C(n), harkening back to goo (or something like it, when the alphabet began, though come to think of it, G was pre-blogging and still never had a book at the time, or a name, for that matter, in case it matters, for she repressed the writing, singing, creativity and I wonder if that was conscious, jealousy, or some sort of misandry, or something like that... see, we did get to that phrase just the same, snarky mischief maker, all), and starting with A, even though there were scattered pages before that, but returning to the cyber-past, there have been more than those two reincarnations (reincarnations) in these online written gardens (written gardens) and not all mine (not mine, yet me, aye Z?), for hope returns and love never dies (remember the fifth and sixth and more, never give up, never surrender, no matter how dark the dark may seem {maybe, what?}, there are still ancient heartbeats {heartbeats}, sleeping, if you can find them), and since the beginning (with pen and paper, offline), long ago (long ago there was no end (no end) in sight, so I still never say goodbye to the past lives (past lives) in this life.