There was supposed to be- a quiet ending
somewhere back there—
a place where the river narrowed
and slipped underground
I remember passing it—
or perhaps
it passed me
since then
life has felt slightly unreal—
like walking through a dream
after the alarm rings
the world remains
astonishingly ordinary
coffee steams in the morning…
clouds sliding past the moon…
wind nudging the branches
into slow conversation
my body has grown heavy
with memories—
good and bad—
with the long stories of time
fatige sits beside me
like an old companion
pain speaks sometimes
in low persistent syllables
yet breath continues—
patient…
rhythmic…
faithful as the tide…
sometimes not so
I watch the warm sun
return again
over rooftops—
over distant mountains
it seems unconcerned
with predictions—
with my plight
light pours itself freely
across another day—
and still another
as I sit here—
beyond the place
where my ledger first closed—
feeling less like a survivor
than a witness—
someone invited unexpectedly
to remain in the theater
after the curtain fell
watching the quiet stage
fill once more—
with morning