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.

Maybe not.

Time will tell.