We remember to speak about those we remember,
but we have forgotten about those we forgot.
Left floating in time.
Without the immortality granted by
they scream silently of life and death,
and revelations —
Ideas buried under soil, beaten into the ground.
We have forgotten.
And in this time, now, we still forget.
We forget those who are not even yet forgotten.
Our pale ears are open doors
leading into endless hollows,
where they scream loudly, silently,
even in life,
even in death.
The forgotten will not forget.