Input, Output Or Kaput Poem by Zamir Osorov

My first love?
Seems I couldn’t remember presisely
Such great occasion
In my biography.
It’s gone out,
Dissolved and vanished forever
In whirlwind
Of my early recollections, visions, fantasies,
And dreams and dreams in dreams.
Or that love plying quantum trick with us
and multiple options,
When we are with fear and surmise
Come to great choice again?
Input, output or kaput?
The question is left open.