Past Remembrance

We looked for something past remembrance cutting through some fields of emerald green like a ploughed furrow waiting for a seed to grow we looked for something past remembrance something that's not yet solidified, like a black crow something that's not unnoticeable and is-eerily seen we looked for something past remembrance vexed all things have a known resemblance. Until we hit upon a coagulated black oak bough that was no longer the yolk of an acorn green no longer a sapling, oak, here only a bog oak now the remains of which wanted-kindling in gasoline it was something past all remembrance it was something past all resemblance wanting, discarded—only to be fanned into flames.