A Man Without Gods
sometimes I am the ocean, old as sin, heavy with the ache of it, every wave crashing like regret, every tide dragging memories I’d rather forget. the weight of years pulls at my ankles, and I let it. sometimes I am a wolf, snarling at the sky, teeth bared at an indifferent moon that won't even blink back. I run until my lungs burn, chasing shadows that dissolve the second I touch them. but most days I’m just a man. no gods to pray to, no stars to chart the way, just this sick joke of a cosmos dangling salvation like a carrot on a string. you laugh, you cry, and in the end, you die. and yet I keep moving. the ocean still heaves, the wolf still howls. and this man, this man keeps stumbling on broken knees toward something that might just be enough.