What man of us has never felt, walking through the twilight or writing down a date from his past, that he has lost something infinite? —Jorge Luis Borges
ON THE BANK
On the bank at the end
Of what was there before us
Gazing over to the other side
On what we can become
Veiled in the mist of naïve speculation
We are busy here preparing
Rafts to carry us across
Before the light goes out leaving us
In the eternal night of could-have-been
—nick bostrom
after all, we are each put through caldron