“ … 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,
yes ...
but not dead.
Alive.
There is
beauty to this, if only it did not come with so much pain.
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