If you desire to measure how far you have trekked,
across meadows and deserts of emotion,
and oceans of storm-filled nights,
look back toward the horizon.
For there remains, soaked in your tears,
the crumbling bones of all your relationships.
The harmful sort, which once upon a time
took hungry bites out of your tender soul.
Now, those wounds are merely a rank mound
of sodden filth far behind, compelling your steps.
Barely noticeable on the landscape of your voyage,
vague carnage silhouetted against the iridescent moon,
her bluish-silvery pallor casting light up on your footpath.
Her voice, if she had one, would sing gently to you now,
a single hopeful word, encouraging you, willing you;
“Onwards”.
Photo by Danie Franco on Unsplash
