Thursday, November 1, 2018

The Prologue's End

The coulee calls one down the ridge
And the sunrise fills it up with gold
The mule deer watch and wait
And the new valley’s edge beckons

What waits for me upon the other side?
Here in these brutalist walls
Enmeshed in fluorescent light
I build upon myself and wait

With minds united and diverse
I slag through texts and pages
The digital blue-glow lights the way
And acrimonious groups parse opaque instructions
Filling the valley with fog

Here at the prologue’s culmination
I emerge from the fog-thick vale
And see three more ahead
And beyond
The glowing plain
This is, after all, just the prologue

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