everything is carried still, no need for looking back, no need for remembering as it all stands clearly in everything i do wracked wrapped tightly in this now.

am told it all is fabrication let it go deal only with immediates past is past and future does not exist but child of rote i am and can not change from the deep deep rut of me and so i beat my head against what does not exist but still i feel the hurt and watch the blood leave marks on stones that only i imagine...one day soon there will be no more and everything before me now will cease and fade as if it never has been...music, softness, a loving touch, the smell of green and wonders of the Queen...no more, all of that...no more and i will walk into the darkness just as if i never had been.

and the blue child?

what will she remember when Her dreams come to an end?

So be this.