Come homeward, but walk slowly.

Your eyes see nothing but an untouchable blindness.

Your ears feel a soft breeze reaching for your feet.

You stumble and can't quite regain your stand.

Your knees glide along the ground, with a sad understanding.

You see a mirage‑‑isithome?‑‑looming ahead.

You try to move away . . . but can't.

It's after you, chasing you, ready to engulf you.

Gasping, you lean heavily on a tree‑‑besideitandbehindit‑‑

And hope you've won.

You haven't.

No one ever does.

The tree is unable to give support

And you're no longer able to support yourself.

Your story has finally ended

And somehow‑‑surprisesurprise‑‑you're grateful.