It was either a slam dunk
or a cataclysm.
The beginning of the end
or the end of the terrors.
I’ll let you know
when I know for sure.
It was the wretchedness
or the rockin’ pneumonia.
The remains of the wrong
or the righteous rising.
The rhythm of the night
or the writing on the wall.

It was the best thing in life
of the freedom to fail
being availed
in all its terrible glory
for all to see.
I just can’t tell
so I just can’t tell you
what it was
just yet.