- The age of the drowning man has arrived.
- Consequences of choices are ripe for the picking.
- Candlewicks pick up flame and lick thick waxes down.
- Entities dance to tuneless dirges.
- Dreams of aisles and veils portend the desire of a dying heart.
- Unnurtured soul cries — silently, bitterly — behind fierce mask.
- Lost believer making their way back to the beckoning fold.
- Pains, joys, tribulations mingle for perfect sustenance.
- Cast adrift in sunless seas, tides ebbing, flowing to final oceans.
- Ends of worlds no longer matter.
- Maps no longer bear compass points to lead the way.
- Directions are meaningless — the only choice left is to trod onwards.
- Forward, forward, forward to bleak horizons feet doing the work.
- Goodbyes are spent, hellos are still minted and unused.
- Oceans swallow sleeping ships and spew them back to empty piers.
- Baggages are packed, unpacked, and packed again. Continue reading
Perhaps it is the bleakness of a city cloaked in gray filthy fog that has dampened my spirit and made my soul long for home.
Perhaps it is the realization that coming back to the city of my birth does not have the same significant heft as staying in the mountains with the people I love.
Perhaps it is just the fickle side of me awakening and realizing that the only creatures that I talk to whenever I am home are two stray cats who have found refuge on the window ledge of my kitchen.
So this is how loneliness looks when personified.
No wonder others find comfort in the thought Continue reading