“ … the pace of the universe’s expansion is ramping up, propelled by some unknown force referred to as ‘dark energy'." Globe and Mail
The cedar bares its roots,
vermillion against the dark
chestnuts and golds of the season:
autumn, the end of a cycle.
There is no flesh on these bones.
The anguish of living too much in the light—
veiling that which hides beneath.
Until, that is, the choice
is no longer ours.
It comes to me, this vision, like bones of the past, a shadow of once was or yet to be seen. I am not dead: raw, broken; scarred,
but not dead.
There is beauty to this, if only it did not come with so much pain.