When a light goes out
it invites misgiving
and uncertainty –
the whole world becomes darker
for a moment
for an eternity

And suddenly
here feels like a foreign land
arid, unforgiving, and vast
In a split second
what we most treasure
becomes a thing of the past.

Death is insidious
Death is selective
and looking back in retrospective
I struggle to adjust my own perspective.
Now it’s too late to atone for sins,
it’s too late for could have beens,
and any attempt to change the fate
is just too late.

Night after night
I fly like a kite
parting thick clouds
soft as black silk
Then I wake up
to remember,
craving kindness
like a puppy craves milk.

Photography by Michael Shainblum

Alien, alienated. That's me.

One Comment on “R.I.P.

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