In the fading light, they savored
the sound of pattering rain
against the rusted elevator door.
Invisible secrets whispered
from beyond the uncharted realms.
A childhood puzzle in the
attic shadows—a singular piece,
unvisited, unwelcome—remains
whole by neglect.
She never asked for completion.
Floating text on fractured
digital screens—where echo
meets glitch—has someone else
pressed their dusty fingers
here, too?
The symbols of a language
forgotten but never truly
lost, like echoes of
unfamiliar laughter,
weighed heavy in emptiness.
When was the last time
they stood on hallowed ground,
boots caked with mud from
mirages of past
and foreseeable unfuture?
Like elevators without purpose,
we find ourselves suspended
between destinations—solitary
rises and reluctant
descents.