spirit

little to nothing
remains my bounty of luck.
none is a numb burr.

was there an eden
living in utopia?
or myopia?

i’m going home now.
anger was red on your cheeks.
i a mute anchor.

god moving away.
leaving us to the darkness.
world without answers.

we all carry scars.
guideposts marking our journeys.
the pain behind eyes.

i saw this ghost once.
a veiled gossamer whisper.
luck was slim baby.