The first came from answer, a place you'd least expect. The last place on earth rest between your lips. A final question answered. Where every person lay. A journey finally ventured, dead silence caught, magnificent and utterly afraid. So rudely interrupted. Destined, from the middle to the end of a line. The story not faded, but truly refined - a switchback no one knows. The last mark of ink. An ‘x’ between your feet. Dig deeper still until you sink beneath.
Aimless through the black and white, among the grainy tops of midnight. Wander through clear cut lines of staunch lit dreams and windless vines. Crawl and stretch toward open whites, blue or hazel of open eyes. Crossing through emboldened text. Reap and sow tears of crying minds. Black and white, back and forth; whose hope is it to read the signs? Among the fields stemming dreams of height, while as to day, they fall to night. Within words so far away only disbelief will fill my fright. Harvested here by those astray, the tree of wisdom, from leaves that fell away.