Image created in collaboration with Jacque C and AI
Text created in collaboration with Jacque C
It enters,
As fog,
across the fertile fields,
Consumes distance -
Thick and presumptuous.
Eyes search for contours where only memories remain.
I used to be happy here.
The sound of the wind through the grasses,
The call of distant crows,
Wheat like waves, gently tempering the progress of time.
Fog eats time.
And time is all we have.
He whispered something in my ear.
Demons always whisper sweetly
Of desire and belonging.
Unintelligible promises.
Garbled spells.
I believed them of course.
Offered face, hands, tongue.
All gone now -
echoes in my ears.
Turned to ghostly taunts
Unwitting sacrifices on the altar of possibility.