commentator becomes susceptible to this malady.
Sometimes we live in fear of being forced to tell our stories
under conditions not best for remembering them.
It's a systemic emotion bred and ritualized into us over the course
of many subsequent generations.
There arrives a point where the terror no longer registers
anymore and so here it comes triggered weakly within.
So that the detonation of silence opens a clustering sky
for a garden from which to hang tears individually.
I don't think it's possible for the story to have ended
really, not here today, nor there tomorrow.