Crossing

Once upon a time

I am dead. There is a line. A processional of black cars.

I am born. There is a line. A processional of lights.

I live. There is a line. A processional of white trucks.

I am light. There is a line. A processional of prisms.

I breathe. There is a line. A processional of clouds.

I sleep. There is a line. A processional of lashes.

I am dark. There is a line. A processional of strings.

I am dead. There is a line. A processional of black cars.

Once upon a time, the cycle continues on.