if i could say whence i would say back again
if i could say again i would say leaving again
it all springs from loss
incidental the loss of more or the loss of less
nothing to be lost in time eternally forsaken
this much shall be preserved
what we are losing now cannot measure against the forever lost
joy of being part of or abandoned by the irremediable the irrevocable
sheer beauty of being a part of or being sundered by the perdition that floods the human mind
we are still human we are the too human
our lids closely sealed as visions race by in what we call our wake in what we call our sleep
in what they call in what the dead call that slumberous journey
pulling into no station for ever marvellously rolling by
many a weathered tree witness our passage
for only to fire fire returns
