Interlude May I suggest for you, your next move, As we toil away within this interlude.

May you fall upon a wooden tree, Tethered to the docks as a boat in the sea. May you collide with the stars deep in the Milky Way, Like the falling beads of rain of a cold winters day. May you dispel your wonders of the possibilities of another life, Like a dream deemed impractical amongst your most bitter moral strife. May you perhaps, be locked in a paradox of misinformation, Like a fish out of water with no hopes of salvation. May you have a better intention? Left out to dry to prevent your heads inflation? Is it black or is it white? Maybe shades of grey. When in your life have you ever seeked answers in this way? Might I suggest another try? Or another flip of the coin. A second chance for fate to reconsider its questionable choices? May you beat down that cellar door that which harbors your ghosts, Like a skeletons closest you believed youd forever be a host. May you one day take the wrong fork in this splitting road, Like a shirt ripped down the middle where the fabrics were sewed. By the white of your eyes, Or the black of your heart. May you make the next move, Solely by the choices you choose, In this interlude you take part.

Anthony K. Rosales