And so then.
A continued perpetual reach toward a critical mass.
Always sufficient and far, hoped to implode.
It’s reached for.
One life or maybe more.
Eternity has been sectioned and assigned VIP
Points invented.
To say there’s some place to where we can never go back and
Here, where we are, is an empty parking lot.
Here, where we arch
Down to look but never past our laps.
Short tried gazes expendable and cheap.
Our pupils have become tiny.
We’ll never again see in a dark gone extinct.
We’ve been beaten beyond recall,
Aged different,
And no one can seem to remember what was ever even called.
The city doesn’t move.
Here, the babes are weak.
Where we are.
For one life or maybe more.