Artifacts

missing turns chase the road. curious angles draw the map.the truth is that line that creates the horizon. the division between Earth and sky. the place we long to reach that always recedes as we approach it. feather and bone without wings.

the world encroaches. all detours and drawbridges. ripe enough on its own. but sweeter on the return.

the years sweat and bleed. a long series of open wounds. we're hurt. we heal. repeat.

the chase takes us farther. the hunt brings us home. the appetite of the flesh and the hunger of the soul.

there are intersections. colors coaxed from skin. greys still to be told. life moves through us. a raging locomotive. emerges on the other side a trembling victim.

words fail to find us as we languish in the depths of our discovery. this paradise of ghosts.