even with all that's gone,
there is so much left.
because what's gone is gone,
we're drawing plans for the rest
of our lives, without the compass
we used to use to guess
forge forward, strike light
from rock, squeeze water from a well, maybe
find a lucky penny
at the bottom
of the pail.
But the once-brand new
coat of paint has paled, peeled and
our tools have been mislaid,
somehow. How do we tell, now
- magnetic wrong from magnetic
right, tell the time - give each other
the time of day? How many hours
'til now do us part?
Well, it's a start.
Isn't it? We knew the way
this was going to work. Or
supposed we did, it was supposed
to - we knew we had the best
deal on offer, on record! And we took it
for all it was worth.
But because what's gone is gone,
we will have to decide
whether all it was worth
is worth enough now that
we've spent it and cursed,
and are looking around,
and the next check is never going to come.
Is everything that it was worth - so much!
- so much, gone. We will have to decide
if what's gone, all we got for this
bargain we struck, for this hell-of-a-deal,
eyes-open, and it paid off! Is all that
worth living with everything left.
So much left