Contemplation
I stand before the early morning light, squinting, to see the hope promised on the horizon. Shadows from the pillars of salt behind me; a multitude of errors seeking my attention. All the fallen stars buried beneath the empty wishes; their tombs unmarked and broken from the heft of promises. The black rose I carried tightly within my palm has died from suffocation. I’m afraid to let it go, hoping it can be resuscitated.