trudging through the mud with broken dreams on your shoulders—

clutching the piece of reality in your hand as finders keepers—

you never smiled and i’d remember—

your tears were clear as skies in mid december—

--

the embers died when you fell that morning—

it was cold and i couldn’t hear the angels sing—

violins and pianos write your martyrdom in their songs—

dirges often right the memories of your wrongs—

--

you searched for truth your entire life

yet you never saw it in that moment;

--

seriatim.