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Behind the walls that shield a history from unavoidable rebirth by fire, another point in time, another chance to beg unveiling of the mystery we never spoke (yet seeming to inspire)... now buried here within a circumstance. In honesty, we find the sacred peace that longs, carefully nurtured, for its place among the violence of what is real; in candor, we can seek some small release that lives and breathes within a moment's grace and wanting nothing more, can simply heal. When we require the situational to dictate future courses of the days that fill with what we can not hope contain, assure ourselves that future is the fall we saw inside that moment's truthful gaze, we live in flux and pray but to restrain... But circumstance is all there is to hold an anxious foot from leaving solid ground and falling, wingless, into the unnamed. Perhaps there is more wonder to behold in distance, looking out instead of down in wonderment, some dignity reclaimed. Too late to turn, too late to close the hand that beckoned, needing more than it could ask to just deserve (believing it was so). Our duty may not be to understand, require the removal of the mask, but just be comforted, allowed to grow. The fear, while separation seems the key, lies in the beauty of uncertainty.