I should be in bed,
yet I am awake.
Staring into the abyss of my wanton computer screen.
Contemplating my life.
Everything resonates change.
All signs point to something huge happening.
Dancing in a cast or deciding for myself where to go.
I look to the stars,
but they have no answers for me.
For they are long deceased.
The memory is what I see.
I wish I could tell from that where to go.
I need to find my north star.
the breeze is rolling through,
smell of decay,
sweet and pungent.
Change is happening every where.
I just need to find which way the wind will blow tomorrow.

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