Paragraph on Forever:

Black Star and 1979

Harry Clarke

Sweet little lies, meant in the moment, never for life. False promises built on soft bedding. The edge of a mountain, pulling ever closer. Shifting grass, gravel, and the roots of what is to come. Did we even know what forever meant? Not in physicality of course. We must have meant the wound at the end of it all. Little scar, shrunken from the size of a baseball—no it felt much larger than that. A void, encompassing the body like first degree burns. Charred black. Falling off the side, slipping earth, combining with all of my ash. Roots caught onto my solid ankles, some of me survived. Look up, it used to be so high. Elevated beyond belief. Sigh. Time to pick up the pieces. Puzzled back together in diagonal lines, nothing fits. Meld them together with the tears. Forever a distant memory, what will be the future?