Before zero existed, did this space exist or did we, by our giving nothing a name bring it into existence?
What about bits of memory that shoot through my mind only to vanish en route? What happens to the parts of the story I can't quite recall?
And wishes made in childhood, almost grasped, then forgotten? Can they come to me in a surprise one day, fresh-slapped and screaming?
Who suggested this thing called forgetting and called collisions of circumstance a coincidence? Are these just tricks of the mind shields from what we doubt we can hold?
Emptiness sketches the shape of what existed before this silence. In its outline, our former symmetry gives light to this darkness.