I think I may live in segments. Moments between where the great is and where it was and who I am now and who I used to be.
Segmented arthropods or a life once lived draped in shadow. And I’m okay this way…maybe…
I stare at the moon.
I stare at the memory.
I stare at life.
And I’m breathing
Wondering what that means anymore.
But my voice is strong and so I stare and yell to the void
Maybe that’s enough.
Time will tell.