wane

heavy head

no turn of phrase to stay the dread

no shedding weight for the road ahead

you lit me up like a beacon

we’re steepled across the empty space between us

lensing time, laden

the latent shore to meet us

i have no present tense

stippled across the place we rest

beautiful apparition

inviting superstition

attune to me

i can’t see straight ahead anymore

i’m looking back at a bright light

a semaphore

beckoning me to turn like a moth to the moon

beckoning me to an end