The Nebula Races Toward Me

Photo by arnaud girault on Unsplash

As one image vanishes into the airy thinness,
two visions appear in the nebula
racing toward my shadow, grasping the darkness
within and twisting the Fates that bind my fury.

Are they the particles to replace those that
are rotting in the earth? Are they faucets
that feed my dry mouth, organs to replace
the bareness beneath the shallow breaths?

They are symbols, as was she; beacons to
shatter the dark, twisted maze of my mind —
cushions to brace the fall of dreams and past
memories that dissipate into the sound
of desperate voices screaming to escape.