How the Sadness of a Single Human Life

How the sadness of a single human life
compounds with time.

How in a generation, maybe two if we are lucky –

the way our mouths wrinkle into laughter, the way we can’t remember which dishes go where for the thousandth time, the way our bodies have pulsed with rage over small injustices, the way we cannot hold our liquor, hold our excitement, hold our children long enough –

everything is annihilated with the delicate memories of our loved-ones.

Is there anything else worth belting out over the rooftops?
Is there anyone whose voice will carry it far enough into the blackness?