All I hear are echoes
Of those that must have been forgotten.
For I know not of their names,
But of the essence they had once been.
I know today
Better than I thought I did
Yesterday.
But I do not forget the moment
Of transformation.
That moment of success
Over failure.
That idea of knowledge,
And lack thereof.
I thought I knew.
But did I really,
When the world will always be
Askew?