purgatory

on a long, empty road
chasing the sunset
reaching towards the light lost
forever on the edge of the dark

it's comforting, isn't it?
the gray area between light and dark,
past and future.
the future is dark, of course,
because what else could it be?
how can it be anything other than a void
you're falling into,
hurtling towards a place you can't see.
is it a place to land? a place to crash? a place to disperse all your worries until there's nothing left to touch you?
is it a place at all?

that, my friend, is why you're trapped in the sunset. the in-between.
purgatory.
it's okay to fall, you know.

[image by me]

I like to write poetry physically before typing it—it's more therapeutic that way. So, I figure, why not include the journal pages in my posts?