Infinitesimal,
the memory is smoke.
It sinks, inky into the basin.
The silvery cloud diffuses,
tendrils spread like veins
and I peer in.
Suddenly I'm sinking.
Quickly, lightly, rushing back,
falling through the past.
I see a someday demon,
deceiving himself
that he is not a boy.
He is drowning out his goodness,
drinking in the hate.
Reaching out, I cannot stop him;
needing not to die;
to break his soul forever,
dragging the world down with him.
Helpless to help him,
as into the darkest depths
he plummets.
And I rise from the basin,
chilled and shuddering,
feeling like him, for him,
head full of dusk.
