3 times, eternity.

At first I woke in a sea of red,
In that infantile state where consciousness ceases.
With nothing but a desire to feed,
Or perhaps not even desires at all, in that endless peace.

At next I spoke in pitch darkness of game of chance,
A coin flipped by another.
"You needn't show me," I needn't fall in a trance,
Out-coming a grief ever greater.

At last I do not remember, that state of divine bliss.
And who can remember the sacred emotion that cease?
So I seat myself in thorns of despair, quietly in diss.
Which is precisely what granted that memory to decease.

3 times, eternally.