The horizon gets deeper

It used the concave to distance

But of recent, it convexes

I used to stare up at the sky

My chin tipped up, pointing arrow,

To fill my face with open air

To fill my spirit with a permanence 

Now I stare downwards 

Looking beneath

In hope

For hope

For a welcoming 

Of predictable routine

Waiting and expecting 

For the transference of a sustenance