That, for better and for good, I stop praying, voting, and wishing on eyelashes?
Faith—I have some left. In the unlikelihood of strange noises meaning harm.
In the sun’s insistence on night, the body’s on rest, and the species’ fate.
We, too, are an experiment in winding down. And yet, together in the darkness,
All that giving up takes on a sweetness and a hum of going on and on,
Not because we must, but because we can.