Touch-deficient & 
Light-starved we were, 
Like an inverted flame, 
Eating any warmth down to its studs. 
The deepest despair is ravenous, 
It takes & takes & takes, 
A stomach never satisfied. 
This is not hyperbole. 
All that is gorgeous & good & decent 
Is no luxury, not when its void 
Brings us to the wide wharf of war.

Even as we stand stone-still, 
It's with the entirety of what we've lost 
Sweeping through us like a ghost.

What we have lived 
Remains indecipherable. 
& yet we remain. 
& still, we write. 
& so, we write. 
Watch us move above the fog 
Like a promontory at dusk. 
Shall this leave us bitter? 
        Or better? 

Grieve. 

Then choose.