Waking up with words

As though, miraculously in claiming that space in time we will reach back and claim the dust of stars we were born of, and trace their path to our creation. We exist in bursts of moments that catch up and hold back, born and reborn in a spiraling déjà vu that escapes our consciousness with each step we take away from the instincts that bring us to the point in time the universe carved out for us.

But we can’t fight the battles that rage through our minds. The winds fight water and waves fall without direction in a dizzying explosion of delirium. Our minds won’t rest because our thoughts are shapeshifters cloaked in darkness, walking barefoot on moss, licking salt off lips, offering prayers to a waning moon. And yet, we reach back in time to claim the dust of stars we were born of, tracing their path to our every breath.