sodom and gomorrah

in the end, it isn't nostalgia that turns us to pillars of salt. only our fear that we must have lost something important along the way, buried invisible in the indent of our own tracks. whatever it is, we think, we'll never get back. some of us turn back and kneel in the sand, ever swept onward, looking in vain until our eyes burn hot. some of us choose to fly faster. but god, all the things we could be, unshackled from that dread--