One would think
awareness of the moment you lost it all
does not come
while sitting in a thick cloud of illusion that suddenly clears.
Too dramatic of course.
Ponder instead, how the littlest of things
are the beginning.
Pebbles and slippage of sand always come
before the landslide and breaking bone at the end.
And what of the ever present sense of dread?
Just a twitch, a fast heartbeat away from becoming
the truth
about us.
Before we know it,
it’s just a story we tell strangers
about how we lost our way.


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