Storm isn’t enough to describe it

what we resisted as long as we could

stretched to breaking

hearing spines crack; pages litter the floor

spent casings and a gun never fired

left in the dark to rust

Lost

until the walls came down to the sound of trumpets

Maybe it isn’t exactly sunny out there

but the fog lifts a little bit

to let through some sense of seasons ending

a grateful sigh, and moving on

The night is on our heels

and the day is in our eyes

Our way is walking on a new page

tracking ink across old lines

adding what we can to the mess

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Photo taken by Me. See more (old stuff) on Instagram @mitchel_ring