A Promise to Come Back
The pen breaks but the words don’t stop. Feelings keep pushing them from one dimension to the next. Thinking keeps me awake until I remember to forget, to leave it all behind and be led into the darkness by a cadre of silent pilgrims and winged beasts. Whether or not I remember to order ink for my pen is not so important as remembering how thin the veil of reality is. Right before I wake the spirits stuff my pockets, and just before the facade of my life begins to rise on the horizon, I promise myself to come back.
Published in