Is it already this day, two days before the day after tomorrow… another one of those days harrowing of sorrow… reflecting back and I recollect the beginning of the hollow.
The tunnel had been dug, been digging since the sunset dimmed, removing the foundation making flooring bend… impossible to stay stable, unable with the ground sinking in.
The reality starts to halt, the words just months before delivered, unfaltering unwavering no tremble or quiver… are no longer sourced as Love from who they were whispered.
I’ve been here before, the cycle starts turning and hits a kink in the chain… so much is familiar and yet it has an equivocal exchange … it was all raised and laid out with no grasp to remain.
It is already this day, the day before the day that comes after tomorrow… the proclamation set and yet now blame follows… such a sad reflection of the projection, once again, wilted by sorrow.