I thought, maybe, we’d see a new day. There are things we imagine, things we regret, and things which haven’t yet been. I am a wreck of late. I can’t stream a sentence together, can’t think clearly. I’m so afraid. Nightmare has left, sickness remains.
And fear, so deadly a drug, which gives death but reminds the soul of meaning. How I long to be reminded, but I have had too much. My fingers tremble now, and my heart races.
There are things which cannot be remembered anymore by anyone but one whose silence is always perfect and utterly complete.
Tale Told 