When reality presents itself expectations shatter
new land masses appear on the horizon
the contours of life assume new patterns.
The quotidian becomes quixotic
previous arrangements disassemble
things come undone.
Now what rears its ugly head a question a challenge
a beguiling pathway into the unknown
experience shows us the mundane at the heart of mystery.
Yet questions roil and rise from ether entwining smoky tendrils
tickling the mind in slumber obscuring the edge of awareness
the thin gray line between sleep and eyes wide shut.
To waken twist the band tighter around your wrist
until split skin bleeds red rivulets across the watch face
an alarming sign of the correct time.
the executioner’s bill comes past due.
LikeLike
Ask not for whom the bill comes due… Thanks.
LikeLike