Meandering

Escapee number forty-seven stood

aside to let the moment pass, before

resuming with his walk. His destination,

as yet unknown to him, was just around

the corner. “Soon,” an uninvited voice

inside his head announced. A wave of endings,

defying every rule of common sense,

first rose then fell upon a shore of bones:

the bones of ages underneath his feet;

the bones of all departed souls spread out

towards each compass point as far any

sharp eye could see. This sea: a silent violence

of suffocating surges, swells and warnings.

“The time is now,” the uninvited voice

proclaimed. “The time is now.” And every not-

yet-breathed breath pushed itself towards the here

and now, for there it stood: his destination.

‘Twas both as large as life, and small as death,

encapsulated in a final breath.