Broken Faced

A white noise could blanket the world as we fall asleep in the wake of all of our mistakes.
No matter how profusely we pray to a God with a broken face and deaf ears, nothing softens the blow of the realities that come to chase us at night, when we thought all was what it once was and we were safe.
But safe is just a shadow.
A shadow cast by standing in the wake of a sun that burns and bleaches the color and livelihood away from our lives;
lives that don't even mean as much as they were once supposed to.
not even to ourselves.
And in the wake of this sun, this burning ember flicked off the burning end of a celestial cigarette,
I will stand on the edge of the unknown, the doormat of the afterlife,
and await the courage, or maybe the cowardice, to step off.