I can’t interrogate finality
Without tripping past it’s edge
The last few arduous rituals
Feel as flickering and spent
In a sentimental flush
I’ll miss anything I had
As I sever weighted tethers
To the beloved past
It’s theatre as you breath
It’s harmonies as you feel
But memory is tragically just fractured animation
While this would be the climax of a play
Or a ringing note on stage
Later, it’s just the last couple of frames
Tiny recoils of the motion
Can’t sum anything up
The crumbling edges of a wider swing
Just don’t define us
If there’s meaning in anything
The last time will suck
But that it does means that it doesn’t matter
You’ve built enough
That the last stone won’t add much
Quit Vision 