He longs for home of
which he is unsure, what that home entails,
where the road begins.
He left. In one sense he had never arrived.
Long nights turn cold. The belly of this beast
emerges with bared teeth and claws, leaving
two choices: accept the proposition, or move outside of yourself.
Tiny fragments remain, and within each a glimmer of hope
a word or a single blade of grass growing in the empty field
may trigger the truth behind the actions.
From the liquid dream state generated
by the melted mind clamoring for more,
not wanting to let go of this reality
the addiction turns violent and quickly
consumes the being.
Silent snow works to cover
the once empty field now overrun
with the fragments.
It has no emotion and is detached
from the energy once occupying its sublime space
but it has changed, a different polarization
left in the being’s wake.
In another plane of existence
Joline peers through soaked eyes
and sees three stars move across
the northern sky before fracturing.
