It feels like just a shutter would cause an impending destruction of the universe. Too quiet things are. Do you have a trump card to save your soul?

What is your worth. This question resonates.

A flutter of a butterfly brought forth such a wrath.

Time moved. So did I.

A different frame and perspective. Many yesterday's have passed and I am still looking forward to all my tomorrow's. Where we were planted to begin didn't allow any us a say. But where we end is ours to orchestrate.

My guitar still lies silently near me. Four walls have changed.