the death of everything.

These are precarious moments. We cannot 

define them fully. We can only resist the urge 

to reach out and hold onto time already passed. 

It is holding smoke but not inhaling.

To be a witness, one must only see something. 

But seeing does not have to mean much. In the end, 

there will never be clarity before action.

The answers only come in moments lived.

This shouldn’t be surprising. The knowing 

is the finale. To know is to transform, 

and thus clarity is an end.

The nature of progress is that life 

will fall away as you pass through it, 

so you must be willing to accept the hidden cost. 

In some ways we are beautiful 

in our dying, in complete surrender 

to life’s known cruelty.