The Morning. Is when we are raw.
When the skin outside is as vulnerable as the skin on the inside.
Air fills and expels.
Walk on. To. The Leaving Place.
Where past and future tracks collide.
The junctures moves fluid.
Night dreams come prophetic.
Soothing reassurance each destination is just a stop.
Soothing reassurance each destination is just a stop.
I explore every meeting point from inside the collision.
Hoping for a premonition of direction.
There is no gift from the future.
There is no gift from the future.
The present responds in redemption.
Powered by unending junctures.
Assured: no matter what, they border distance from the previous point.
And this is enough. To convince me I'm on the right track.
