The details vanish, not forgotten but subsumed. An everyday occurrence raised on its hind legs, crazed by lightning. Walls worn smooth by those who have passed here. The story of civilization is screened nightly. In proximity of a ribcage enclosing clockwork, the head fairly swims with sentiment.
Further tragedies exist beyond motion.
A glyph is also a coagulum, drawing blackness from the white crevices of time. Ceased continues, spectral within seized. The raw cords are replaced by silvery trails of fluid.