Predisposition

Never a second thought given, once was enough to know. Intension of a scurrilous nature filled the corridor. Tapping of souls echoed up and down, handily ready to accept the outcome of the unknown. The night was dark, fine mist enveloped the stars. Cold breath warmed by the spark of whatever it was, charged from the moment of contact. Couldn’t be convinced otherwise, never easy, the map had been left in a parking lot along the way. Intersepted was a delicate way to put it, all the beds hid peas underneath. The circle in the garden turned, hidden from all, yet none at once. Space in between was still undiscovered, matched in force, laid to the bone. Thunder pounded above dark grey concrete and cedar. Citations tore through the night, claims made to be staked. Predisposition long had been there. The truth never had. Racing past the tools of the trade, no repair, no aid.