The garden's railings wet from the rain like the poor left outside, but as night falls, a flute somewhere or a star advocates for all of humanity - like when we were children hiding under the stairs, and when we emerged, we had left behind a royal destiny; silence makes the world larger, sorrow more just, and later as young people we embraced the first tree and told it of the past drab days that left you, yet you left a heartfelt memory, and I who was mad for tomorrow now watch anxiously as the hands move forward on the clocks.