Going deeper now as deep as I can get. Time to embrace the show face and close the doors.

***

A tent was there, one once full of color with poles of straight strength. Attached facing opposite directions, guiding a ridge with height.

Once, one, singular, yet past tense the poles of the tent – snapping shattered; wind carrying flaps of greyed canvas.

Still, not so, with showing shape…Illusions. Delusions. Mirage to ease thoughts, so many thoughts one contained. Released, wasted, grounded with stakes.

Light showed the same in darkness as darkness hid from light, really then, light? If then comes morning is it still worth showing?

Where did a frame go though billowing; needed with rope to ground never stopped shadows. Gone. Complete.

Mountain covered bare. Peak slippery slope, and then. Over and over and over. Until, even the tent was finished.