uncast; at post-Charles de Lint reading

this is my ode to a book i read many years ago, Charles de Lint's Memory and Dream

uncast

you unnerve me when i feel that i cannot be flustered
you unhinge me when i feel i cannot be moved
my thoughts are composed of a million sedimentary layers
yet you dig through each and everyone of them
with the seeming ease of routine

i wonder why you do not seem to notice,
when one of the things i like most about you is your sensitivity
you betray my convictions when i feel i cannot be wrong
yet i cannot complain when i knew from the start that you would be fleeting

and when i will see you again, i will already have known
that one moment, you'll be by my side
and the next you would be gone,

like a cherished memory