From layers deep below the surface
Come jell-o forms of ancient men
Children, women, girls, acquainti
Shimmering in and out once more

Reverse fade to gray,
The Twilight Zone's Serling speaking
With words no ears can elucidate
Fog-whisp memories of profundity

A steadfast churchbell, carillon thick
Unrung through gale force winds
Whence askance the bicycle tin bell soldier
Hush brush clap damper softly shpings

They appear unseen but, lo, discerned
From interior canyons' shallow glide
Sallow but fervent, unmistaken in mead
Reminders that wilted wormholes can resuscitate

A person you once were, or were you yet
So light my heart-mind barely brushed the derm
Always playing on a rehearsal stage in preparation for
             act three
Too broad to stop, too sharp and quick

But that was now.  And now is . . . when?
Come back.  I implore you to rekindle
What was lost when I crossed the last bridge
It was there.  I knew it then.  Please, let us move forward.