Traces of Life

At great distances lies the secret to vision without movement
Waves crashing in stop-motion—the artist’s strokes slow, deliberate—
Press a button and the whole film plays in seconds
Millennia compressed to a bite-sized chunk
That still manages to get stuck in the throat
Though we didn’t need to breathe, anyway.
I, the wrath of—not God, but some equivalent—
Howling at the wind that drowns my voice
Wiping away traces of my life as I live it
And wondering who will know that I have come and gone
Defy the night to swallow me
For I will grasp the stars and stay above the tide
My handhold on the heavens a lifeline cast into the sea by an unknown hand.
And so begins my search for the one who saved me
Sifting through a pile of forgotten deities
Ever tempted by the new gods
At whose altars I have already worshiped.
Even if my hand were to touch upon the truth
I would not know it from the thousand lies I have already been told.

Photo by Adrien Olichon from Pexels

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