if you hadn't called out, I'd have turned away the brilliant light of fallout before it turns gray I was not in pain and I was not afraid if you hadn't called out, I'd have turned away
divergent roads are plentiful, always, all ways every path's identical these days I am not a rat and this is not a maze there's a quaking, imperceptible, and this will all be razed
an island oak was falling when it turned black a tightened rope was hauling when it went slack I have known no tremor, this earth remains intact a feeble voice was calling when I turned back
a heavy fog was churning when I envisioned it - the light you struck was burning when I extinguished it I meant not to smother, just to inhibit it have I turned, or am I turning? I can't distinguish which