all that was built, tended, watched has gone to pot.
words spoken, once ripe with intent, now lost to the void;
dispersed into the everydayness where
mundane competes with surprise for equilibrium.
sentiments and confidences dissipate in the fog of this new unknown
& I struggle to find my true north.
truths, just discovered & held dear, slowly slip away and
I may
may not
find my way back to them.
bereft, old friend.
I have worn you these many years. An austere companion cloaking loneness; bringing heavy comfort.
At least there is that.