gasping for serenity in a fit of longing for all that he lost.
he turns the mirror backward where there is only fiberboard
taking extensive surveys of what remains. gathering up things.
things, intangible tokens, lingering ghost smells, nostalgick wavelengths with a mad and frantic desire to gain what was his ultimate loss the crusher the ender the silencer.
gain back what once filled him with the simple true warm wonder
in a landscape now unending there is no room for what he is looking for its gone for good and thats real cold truth.
and when his hands grow numb and tired
from all that grasping of ghosts
he can feel the new air as it settles in enveloping him and finally stripping him of the torture of futile longing and dumb hope
clarity arrives
and we finally can give in to the last half of a hero's life.
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