Forgive me if I disappear here, if like a dying Shooting star my flight expires in a flash of light, yielding To the encircling murk, this shroud that slowly stultifies.
Forgive me if my quivering lips neglect to tell my tale Of broken shattered things and distant pains that still remain And this unyielding weight; of things quotidian and unseen.
Why can’t skies have clouds and stars\* and enthralling moon light too? Why must a pilgrim find his way, on slippery pavements too?
--- For the NaPoWriMo Day 3 Prompt - Fourteeners and Mag263 at the Magpie Tales from where the image comes. *Line stolen from La Reine’s response to the Day 2 prompt.