Wait for the warm summer wind,
To carry a comfortable memory,
Woven into night,
Blanket of anxiety held tight,
Suffocating our fears and dreams alike.
Wait for the tomorrow surprising,
Out-of-place and out-of-touch.
Wake up to a world where memory and dreams collide,
And only the past survives,
Telescopes replaced by folklore archives.
Wait for the moment-too-late,
Tomorrow’s inertia condensed to seconds.
Witness the blast,
By an eternity-spoken that could not last:
“So it comes to pass.”
The unremarkable past,
Becomes the unremarkable never.