Everything undulates slightly
in the twilit hours, rippling gently
as a mirage.
What seems solid during daylight
becomes other by nightfall,
as things left unresolved
return to haunt the living.
Thus we dwell upon passing thoughts,
full-blown as stories once told
to the very young when we remembered
that which we did not yet know.
Secrets carried like diamonds
on our back spilling forth, then landing
like rocks from the sack.