Each separate reflections
of altered deceptions;

like all intersections
of other-than-present's,

every point will yield
to a forward direction.

Neither had seen a thing
like this in their lives;

a single soul's creation
outside the bound'ries of "mine."

But each knows the riddle
to catch the next dawn:

Think, eat, breathe, pause.
Drink, sleep, breathe, pause.

Though they hit play on the day,
could they tell me how it ends?