In some other world,
Some other time,
Some other existence,
Maybe he lived in life.
His eyes blink,
Lids, lashes flutter,
Always and never ceasing,
He wondered again, or wandered.
His soles were sore,
Of his shoes or his mind.
He stared straight down,
Looked at the worn down days.
He'd been here before,
In some other vision,
Some other falsity he conjured,
Maybe when he was newer.
He gazed backwards, over his shoulder,
At the fiery expanse of ashes.
He didn't cry this time,
But maybe his soles did.
He woke again.
Woke is the wrong word,
There isn't a right one.
It didn't matter.
