Indigo

[Querida]

"Only what is entirely lost demands to be endlessly named"
--Günter Grass

Or so we said until we forgot
what it was that we lost
its name a smallish
collection of strung script
left to be deciphered
in a queasily teetering pile
of the long agos.

Whatever
its qualities
its praises
exists no more.

Whatever survives
cannot entertain the merit
it once proudly attained
faded into the ravages of time.

All that is left is dust
once written on
once peered into
once pored over
once held safe
once traced over
with fingers
that cannot fathom
what is there for tomorrow...?