Chapter Six

How cruel it is

That moments

Like files once converted

Must be corrupted

And transfigured into memories

Where they lose their color

And their dimensions

How sad a thing is timelessness

That works not to preserve

But to destroy

And to render yesterday

Through the lens of a million presents

Where nothing, save now,


How much better it would be

If we could keep in words

All our joy, love, passion, and agony

So that at least some truth

The real truth

Could remain with us forever

- Poem #1