A pale and scarred chest exposed,
As if it had suffered a grievous wound.
Something seen dimly within —
A brief shimmer, then nothing.
A long walk, a purpose unfulfilled;
Not forsaken, but forgotten.
Ever onward to remembrance —
That itself is burdensome enough.
The sunlight fades, the moon sets;
The stars spin on endlessly.
The void itself beckons,
Beyond both day and night.
And I no longer know
Why I shouldn't listen.
Nov 11, 2025
Nov 11, 2025 at 11:22 PM UTC
A pale and scarred chest exposed,
As if it had suffered a grievous wound.
Something seen dimly within —
A brief shimmer, then nothing.
A long walk, a purpose unfulfilled;
Not forsaken, but forgotten.
Ever onward to remembrance —
That itself is burdensome enough.
The sunlight fades, the moon sets;
The stars spin on endlessly.
The void itself beckons,
Beyond both day and night.
And I no longer know
Why I shouldn't listen.
