…maybe it was the life.
or the sight of what had never been before
coming into being and so vibrantly making itself known,
the damp and the cold and the dim yet brilliant clarity.

I turn back.

…maybe it was that certain death.
or the approach of it, the sound of its footsteps
softly through wet leaves and gently kicking aside pinecones.
calmly inexorable yet destructive in a way previously unimagined.

I look away.

…maybe it was the silence.
or the stark empty feeling that at once felt so full.
the colors meshed and clouded gradually come ablaze in new light,
feeling giving way to visual torture and wonder.

I sit.

…maybe it was the memory of you.
of your laugh, your eyes, your token
the way you danced when you walked
gone forever yet never really gone
simply there and not at once

I lie back.

…and contemplate the life, the death, the silence, the memory.