So then we found it in our guts. The hope we'd been looking for was within us, it was just strewn about the crevasses and hidden in parts. Nothing that was thought of was ever whole. Like electrons, time moves in a synchronous wave until we observe it as the uncertain particles that frustrate our black and white minds. Did that memory happen? Or is it some borrowed illusion from a universe that used to be this one?

To give certainty to anything is easy. But sheds no light on truth. For all that is imagined, lives. And, one day, will no longer.