The last drink I don’t remember.

It was twenty years ago.

I marked the date, the first of September.

Where when who? I don’t know.

The last drink it was a blessing.

Many truths I had to face.

There was no knowing only guessing.

Did the future have a place.

For me and my uncertainties.

For me and mine and yours.

Apparently, in the land and seas.

There are ways and even cures.

The last drink I used to speak of.

In the meetings in the pain.

Between whispers and the search for love.

There’s no going back again.

I think that there are reasons.

And much that I don’t know.

I have this thing this fear of God.

In this story, tell, don’t show.