The walk was dark; the small dog
a shadow. He at least seemed sure
where we were going. Cruel to tell
him we would end up where we began.
So it is for man, continual journey
towards light, away from light,
a white blanket, tall, black wings,
a tether digging deep around the throat.
What does it mean to leave the body
like some reptile shedding its skin?
Is there a path, a ladder, stairs to
follow, climb, ascend?