Prayer

Each night felt like an unspoken prayer, my heart asking questions that the wind itself couldn't answer. My soul was a cracked sky, filled with silent constellations I no longer knew how to wish upon.

Was it too late to find my way back?

Was there still hope, or had the sun already set on all that could be?

My hands reached, but only grasped at the hollow of moonlight—an illusion that slipped like water through my fingers. I fell back into it, over and over, like a tide pulled under by the currents of a dream that would never bring me to the shore.