Mile of Shoes

I am the lord of light, and that which is an abomination unto me is death

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Of course I had to return—

we all knew the mile of shoes

runs long. Millions of lives

tend to add up to eternal

numbers and figures

I don’t have the patience

to work out

alone.

Kind of like when ships

leave the wooden bones

of home and harbor

to cross the odyssey

of salt and tears

and vast wild sea.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Every vessel needs

an anchor.

It might as well

be me. Or the

blare of a house

of flaring light,

carved into stone as

though inviting

the wicked taunts

of

waves,

immovable on the living

land. Funny, I thought I

was the only one who

lived here on the diamond

of green-blue, Earth

suspended in such

glorious blackness.

Ships, sea, lighthouses—

rolling metaphors all

humbly demanding

my return. End

of the road.

We need you back.

We ache for the light.

Thank you for returning.

I thought for sure you were gone.

Was he with you? She?

Is there a God? Could he care

about someone like me?

Life really is a miraculous

skip over the pond, isn’t it?