By Rebecca Alick
So it happened again that night
my mind fled from the grasp of time.
Or perhaps this time, they fled together.
Who knew, right?
Remember, my mind fled with time.
They wandered through the deepest halls
of these cities’ walls,
and in the ceilings, they crept.
They counted each step
until they reached a window,
painted with smoke and soot.
They passed it by,
faces dissolved, voices vague,
drowning in some cheap liquor.
The road ahead was naked and dark,
just a flickering light in hand.
They followed it
into unexplored lands.
The dusty window was left behind
lost in its own drunken dreams.
That cup, oozing bitter poison,
was abandoned for someone else's lips.
The road grew darker,
and they maneuvered through the labyrinth.
Sharp-edged gravel
carved into their unobtrusive flesh.
And that flickering light
it grew bold.
With every deeper nick,
it seemed to feed off the pain.
Was it the flesh that jabbed the gravel,
or the gravel that marked the flesh?
Either way,
it left behind a hallowed ground.
Miles from that sacred scar,
they found a resting place.
There, a faint breath of blissful air
brushed their skin
a whisper from the peaceful turnpike.
Beautifully written