when everything is dying
when everything is dyingand nothing feels like homeand all you can see is a pathway into the dark when no turn seems like the right turnand the body feels like a tombwhen there is nowhere to go and no one to save youand nothing to comfort youand no lighthouse to find you the only way is to be to be in the dark—with the missing roadand the lost threadand the words unraveling in your mouthbefore they even leave your lips to be in the galaxy of darkened starsand the hole in all you knew—or thought you knew and lay there, quietlyuntil somethingor someoneor anything calls you onward— which mayor may notever come.