What's known means nothing on this trying path of light and dust before finding the place to park a car, shut her down, gather what’s mine, and cover the last ¼ mile by foot. Here you can easily meandor along and inside the trench where chunks collide, like a long geo-dynamic palimpsest.
The air feels spotty while the ringing of my eardrums becomes perverse. The rawness grows and I can hear the blood moving in my body. It is holding on as long as you can until the pull is too much. So you let go to the extent that integrity will allow and resume enduring and imagining all the time what a total release might offer.