Childhood didn't last long, the years when we're a family, a clan, unafraid and whole, the big bang came and I was thrown into a world of dishonesty, cruelty and paid for love; nothing much of interest happened since. There are times, when my old heart aches, I can see those years clearly, but there is no return ticket to the past, no bus at the terminal, walk I can't, the distance too far for that, legs too weak, or perhaps it's the will that's fragile. I wonder if there is in the landscape of death, a valley where we are reunited with the years of wholeness before trivial nonexistence sets in.