Only you can then exhume secrets safe within the tomb of memory, of memory, within the tomb of memory. V ibrations in a wire. Ice crystals in a beating heart. L ife without meaning cannot be borne. N ight has patterns that can be read less by the living than by the dead.
T o know the darkness is to love the light, to welcome dawn and fear the coming night.
N ight can be sweet as a kiss, though not a night like this. P estilence, disease, and war haunt this sorry place. We spend vast energy and time plotting death for one another. No one, nowhere, is ever safe. Not father, child, or mother.