I imagine you in that darkened closet An unremarked node of imbricated data A confluence of modulated electrons Constrained to color-coded worms Of deep red copper fleshed in plastic You were picking the lock On a box filled with light But my mind turns from that beginning To the moments before the end And my thoughts have the texture of The surface of The wood of The wheel on Which they would break you Rough, splintered, unfinished Poorly formed But sufficient And in those moments Were you hooting with woe? Indrawing great sobs Like a child with whooping cough? Or were you moving surely through That world of knife edged shadows Making a choice that seemed The most adult you had ever made? Perhaps you will be reborn In the electric clash Of the mind of a child Understanding something new Or the moment of surprise When two opposing views Are shown to be equivalent