Walking through familiar woods

I find my slumbering self

alone with a cricket song –

a quiet soundtrack adding

to the crunch of twigs

beneath my feet,

to the rhythmic thoughts

thumping through my head

and racing heart.

 

(What am I supposed to do with a life like this?)

 

Bare feet break through

the topmost layer of crisp decay

sinking into molding rot that

squishes through pale toes and

filthy fire red lacquer.

 

(The future as I know it is gone.)

 

Only the past remains the same

eternally haunting memory

lingering behind my shoulder,

whispering in my ear

as I’m left wandering a

slumbering twilight path,

wondering if a clearing is near enough

to reach before night falls,

before silence falls,

before all that’s left

is me and the

low hum of photons

drifting through a starless universe.

 

 

Renee Novosel

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