Today will be about losing words. It
will be about verses falling apart, without
music or fanfare.
Nothing will rhyme. Nothing will be
described as it really is, because all
we have is speculation.
Outside, from a great height, far
higher than the gulf stream, all that was
ever written will fall apart.
Even the names of those we know will
be taken up in the wind of anonymity,
as verse by verse, their bones become
one with the earth.
(c) Ella Wagemakers, 17.34 Dutch time (= 11.34 EST in the US)