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Arc For A Different Journey
Midnight.
shadows curl
inside my veins
wrapping me
in a veil
through which
I can see
see.
I was wrong.
Midnight.
the nails
hammered
into the coffin
were done so
by the fingers
now being dragged
across them.
my fingers.
my coffin.
my mistake.
Midnight.
the birds
don't speak
at an hour
like this
about things
like these.
and neither
do we.
no contact.
no service.
signal dead
on arrival.
Midnight.
the universe
weeps with
those awake
with things
to be awake about.
the promise
of a dawn
is still just
a theory.
Midnight.
the coffin
I built
like an arc
for a different
journey
sits
silent.
patient.
final:
Death
is just
a concept
until
you meet
His chauffeur.
Midnight.
I let
the memories
slip away
and release
back
the emotions
that once
held me
captivated.
or
captive.
The heart
entrusted
to me
fits perfectly
inside
a new chest
inside the coffin
I built
like an arc
for a different
journey.
Midnight.
lowering
the lid
I let one
final breath
escape
as the hinges
repose in
perfect form.
the settling
of things
that once were
but are
no longer
ebbs
to a
perfect
silent
symphony
I close
my eyes.
I close
the lid.
and I walk away into the Midnight...
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