It was dark, so we tried to make our own light,
and drank candle wax like tea.
The shadows of grief cast about us ceaselessly…
Wishes that never happened.
Lapses and elapses of years.
We discovered some lumbering along the trail like donkeys,
lost and saddled with regret.
Then, we remembered…
If we go back far enough we can forget
Isn’t that what it’s like to be reborn — willfully —
right in the middle of it?