Credo for the Faithless

See me, Survivor

By Harbor CecillePublished 2 years ago • Updated 2 years ago • 1 min read

Autumn rocks the world to sleep in perfect noontime slumber,

Nodding off, perchance to dream in color, and believe He's there.

Nocturnes press against my lips, but all these harvests pass, and here

Is where my body lies, a silenced pile of leaves- the phantom

Visits me, or feigns his presence, and before the glass, I freeze.

Embers still illuminate the bone dry channels carved beneath,

Remembrances of chill and silver moonlit edge

Swirl in a blinding dance a hidden undertone of rage bespeaks.

Abandoned wounds unstitch, pouring forth a faithless fire,

Reigniting life- and I, the chosen one, reprise the opera:

You may live forever, but at least I sing again.

I carry a piece of the things that I love wherever I go. I love short fiction, chocolate ganache, forensic science, and, aptly, the water.

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