Whether it was or wasn’t, doesn’t matter now. When the past is gone, it’s gone. When the ships have sailed, they’ve sailed. When the meadowlark moans you must crane your neck and look up into the tree and see. Your mind and memory have failed you with facades you’ll never fully realize. Your eyes can only show you what there is. Drink this and only this. Lean in after the sight of it and let it swallow you whole, until you can no longer tell the difference between yourself and what you see. When the past is gone, it’s gone. Let it go. Open your eyes and see what you have left.