I was a comet heading north
like a big ball of ice and dust
dropping chunks along the way
melting
refreezing
breaking apart,
in some endless pointless journey
around the galaxy.

The next day,
staring at knotholes,
great heaving sobbing
waves of pain
buried themselves
in the snow,

while demons and ghosts
did battle
behind the bone
of this stubborn skull.

Everything always is
just perfect, you know,
though for real peace
a little effort
may be required.

So I stood at the gate
and mourned
the years wasted and times spent
running from one dimming light
to the next.

Not until halfway home
did anything approaching clarity
rear its ugly head.