The mystery thickens.
I forgot a very common word today.
I was known for my memory when I was a child.
Does that really mean anything?
Being horrible with dates has been my thing.
I am appalling at names;
Of people, not of things.
The plot has lasted there too long.
It buries more and more underneath the rubble.
There are people who are trying to be rescued.
Trying to stay alive on mere sweat and some flesh.
They will die soon.
The rubble needs to be cleared.
It needs to be lifted off,
It needs to be organised.
In a largest to smallest order maybe?
A required to not required list?
A list by frequency of use?
Or simply left to be crushed;
Forming one dense cube.
Easily stored,
somewhere at the bottom shelf.
Soon names would revive.
People would be able to rebuild.
A new structure maybe?
Unknown materials?
Which in due course,
May or may-not fall down again.
To bury inhabitants in new rubble.
Cropped out of the old storage.
Or a pile on from days to come.
Crisis would keep them afloat.
For activity to inactivity, is a state of bliss.
And building forth, a ray of hope.