as the waters recede, they slowly bare the skeletal remains of what one was. semblance of a smile, once golden now cracked and ajar. there comes a time whereby the moon appears crescent in its shape, distant and especially faint. light reflected is but of a shard of glass sheered and lost. alone in the night sky without presence, submerged and overwhelmed by darkness. these are the days that encircle overhead, awaiting moments to pounce on a stricken being and devour what is left. weighing heavy on the head, buried within bed, life should be but more beautiful. these are the days where stillness equates to paralysis, and the body yearns not to move. the body yearns not to feel — there is nothing graceful about this occurrence.
a quest perhaps, but for what?
