the end of the day, the end of night ( a eulogy for 26 letters)

and in the end we tried, not by chance and not by design, to wander/wonder neither inside nor outside. if this before the end, if it was something, then it was a parallel.
we built supports in the parallel and each offered what we could, when we could.
there was the pain that we thrived on and the past that was a succession of wrong decisions that we clung to: a waste kept tight for us/by us the stranded swimmers in the dark waiting for the current, the waves.
and as we looked at each other and the being pulled under the surface, of each at their own time, we waved and planned a meeting again that would not happen and this was not a lie, it was not a grand falsehood that we drown in.
this was the waves
us waving at us departing and believing that this us is us arriving