we are sequential

we are molded in the dark

we are stardust perpetually returning toward the chaos

we all navigate in search of home

we all carry our coffins with us

we all meet death with our light vessels in tow

some of us are capsized ships on foreign shores

some of us make dwellings among the ruins

some of us are captains and the water is a womb

some of us are captives, held by the place that time forgot

some of us remember so that we can begin again

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Tania L. Balan-Gaubert, Notes from the Tenth