on the way
when light is flashing, help is on the way the placards of ascension assure, for angels of ashen wicks and radio towers in flight paths on the horizon navigate my wanderings. with all these guidebooks I still see many selves in shatter and jump into oblivion. landing is unavoidable, but where is a balance of choice and chance. clinging to shards, frozen in dust, my identity is repeatedly verified through fiber optics- and I dream on the way.
