Semicolon

Waiting, waiting, waiting. The erratic meaning of cigarette smoke. Pale lights in the silence of the street. Lost meanings reviving in the mind. The blurred reflection in the glass. A presence casting doubt on identity. That very moment where looking and seeing diverge. The ambiguity between sleep and wakefulness. The human is a stray dagger. In the diary of the dead. Oblivion is the only truth. Watching the unfolding events, alone.

Which dead shall write? The one buried without a shroud. The one having lost the soil meant to be cast upon it. Wandering to find a shovel, only to become lost; semicolon… the helpless symbol of the paper. The most senseless grief of a years-long struggle. Living for nothing, simple as dying for a diary. As much as the meaning of life. As much as a soul. As much as the earth trodden upon at the end of wars fought in blood. As much as the semicolons defining this soil as a homeland;