Rosebud-stained page. 01-06-08, Saigon.

Let us move on.
Now that the ache has subsided
Into an almost non-
existential jolt that still awakens me
every moment when the nights become
still.

Let us not know,
If that dwelling, sinking, fading, menacing
still grip tight.

The world I see now
feels a hue from an auburn
and the day will move along into a blue.
By then we will know the truth to the whys.

The great affair is to move.