The pain is real. The fear is real. The shame
is real. But, the future and the past, they
are not. This day, at the bottom of the valley,
between two steep slopes, is battered by
rolling threats of tomorrow and sliding scars
of yesterday. Mass wasting will someday level
this perverted landscape. But, why wait?
Why not just give up the illusion? Or not.
The shadows may shorten the days but,
at noon in the valley, the sun will mockingly
pass overhead and warm our faces.
Gone until tomorrow. Remembered always.
Catharsi 