
My hands, from the cold air hide in my pockets. Dark horizon but following the path, skimming the ground with my shoes in the gravel. Is it sky or earth?
other people's stories
in the lifeline that stretches when
closing one eye. Or the two of them trying
to tell me the path. Walked. Travelled. Used.
Out of breath.I must rest.
I will find the source
by stretching my eyes
to the left of the pain
of the arm carrying life
from top to bottom of the day.
I will stretch my eyes
until the deaf shadow
until the fatal error
to the left of the source
in the shadow of hope
*posted in September 2018, reviewed in September 2019