Daytime. Nighttime. Sometime.
There is no light to say,
no sounds to help me gauge.
I stare into the darkness
trying to ignore the remnants
of long passed images that flit
aimlessly across my brain.
Trying to gain that foothold
to fresh territory inside my head,
in that place where there is
only possibility, only potential.

Beyond the door. Beyond.
Where there is life and light;
where angels ply their trade…
the game of chance is played:
lives are balanced, like mine,
between one heartbeat and the next;
sustained by dripping salty fluid
and eased with numbing additives -
‘analgesics for ill mannered pain’ -
oozing into bodies that have
somehow become unwound.

I wonder ...
Who decides which way?
Who sustains the darkness and who brings light?
Should I step forward one more time?


© 2023 Griffonner