What Can Never Be Recovered
–In the middle of a restless night, the moonlight crashing; on, through, dissipating in – the window’s pane, the glass, into the moments of the past. The wrestling of the body the mind writhing in attempts to extricate and mount all memories remaining of moments exposed ———-now displaced. The etchings, now time worn vaguely recollect life, some times a lifetime, some times simply brief breaths held so long nothing remained but laughter. In the night’s breeze, in its debris what remains tumbles about, reminding etchings of origins and whispering of a possibility that has long been spent.