Light appeared to flood the room from every opening.  As witness, events become a part of you with or without memory.

His pale blue eyes bright with platinum drew far to the right and rested on a tiny spider struggling with the life he weaved into a home. Night and the day are the same in his corner; vibrations bring more to his sight and so to his will. Still, with so little sense of purpose the value of empirical evidence is purely survival. Impressions sear with the power granted them by instinct, but what burns is both finite and intangible.

Now she wails just to fill the space where songs of youth turned first to painful sighs and eventually to silence. Sighs became panicked gulps of escaping life like a fish choking on air, then to sharp, brain stem gasps which stopped abruptly with a final inhale, as if to mock them as they held their breath.

Waiting for him. Waiting, for him.

Turning yellow and waxen, the visage peeled back like old wallpaper to unveil a suddenly abandoned cell, a vacant cage.

He said that if you read the bible, you’d think it’s really not hard to be more forgiving than God.

Celestial rotations are no less the same in light and vibration; felt more than seen,  known but never understood, deceptive in relative stillness and constant motion. 

As time measures change only men give meaning to presence and absence,

To a road with beginning or end,

To give and to take,

To deliverance.