In what sense is this so called life, like some fond memory has fled into this dark and irretrievable night, long lost, like adulthood buried beneath some building in Mexico.

Collapsed during an earthquake and then recovered. Two hearts still beating? And shall they live? Unlikely.

Unidentified mass that forms and rips apart, reshaping life, so seemingly indiscriminately and willful. (which is worse to think of?) Tell me.

May I dare address thee? The unaware, the scared yet aware of life's awareness?

Let these bones live, and flesh- to pulsate blood throughout. Let live two dainty new-formed flasks of clay.

Thy work, forsake not and strengthen and dry these to breathe again and live as in these two shells we live all-in or die.