Through haze of open war 
and fallen worlds, 
Persistent as the dreads of private past, 
Hangs a blinking light. Shrouded, 
demanding to be seen. 
A protrusion, cold, dead, geometric, 
Thrust from the light 
In defiance of death and 
In spite of the laws of life 
long ago etched and written – 
long ago burned and forgotten. 

Continue reading “The Spine”