But you see, there is no end, there is no starting over, what has been, has been,
placed into your memories, vivid images alive with feeling and colour,
hidden under a muddle of distractions, rhythms and routines,
but 3am is the time they rise onto the surface and either lovingly stroke your weary eyelids
or pillage through the darkness with the subtlety of a tank in midday traffic,
stealing every grain of sand left by the sandman, to their mirthful laughter you are left
to relive their offering, tirelessly, in the darkened auditorium of the world.