Exactly!
Where do things go?
Where do we go?
I’ve heard a million trashy explanations
they all lack elegance and sense of truth
the Heaven/Hell stuff
/come on you,
think a bit harder/
Then matter degrades through time
/yes, I can buy that,
but where the hell is poetry gone?/
Then some say we stay in our loved ones’ memories
/which is nice but it’s sad,
and a burden for their hard disks too/
SO
I begun to think
I inspected my mirror (me my mine)
I saw raindrops on my window
EUREKA
Wrinkles, lines!!
(carved in us all
by Time
or wrinkles of Time itself
like a bed rock of seashells)
SO
I finally reach an explanation
to my satisfaction:
Things (we) don’t go
They (we) haven’t even moved at all
ever
Like animals keeping warmth
we hide in a wrinkle of time
There we find comfort and permanence
When you come to think about it
It makes perfect sense since
wrinkles
do
not
fade
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