Notes on the Empty Room

there's an empty room I revisit throughout my life. it's where I was born and it's where I will die. the walls a familiar stasis, a welcome sight. my face wears time with my heart steadily silent, the tide calls to my vessel. kept afloat by the gods or an arrogant pride, I'll never know which. I sit central and revel at the ceiling, flashing images of the inevitable. I fall through the floor, back to the world as it was, with new shoes and a score to settle.