We will go to a place, sleet and fire, purgatory and perdition.
It was wonderful before it was horrible. And we minced hopes, diced dislikes, debated hibiscus.
Over lemons, lording over anthills, a child cursed the skies.
Many ideals to families.
Each person is incomplete in a sense, to veil it, this is by nature—to redeem it, this is incredible.
It wasn’t us to make it happen. Beyond physics, near uncertainty, concretized by feelings.
When days are incessant, we pick what we sanctify.
This moment is now a memory.
