my biology teacher taught this last year barely remembered from a year of shaken dreams the tendency of the universe, to reverse things to balanced chaos — every glass eventually smashed fires burnt out, heat dissipating white numbers going down, the same way they rose up you can't reverse damage done when fate pulled the pieces apart but, what about — the green numbers steadily growing in white’s stead the light reaching the little girl’s telescope after century-old death green pushing through the forest ash the Japanese, who sealed cracks with gold 4 am letters and their songs the day out, though only my dad understood the museum artifacts a tidy room, laughter, trying again we can't replace the energy, the time, the soul lost yet we spend more to piece the puzzle back together planting flowers in the widened spaces fighting for peace, for a way to be good again Newton’s third law, perhaps maybe I'll know next year, after AP Physics
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