Beyond The Horizon by Craig Snelgrove


You only know you’ve gone past it

once you’ve gone past it.

As it turns out, there isn’t much.

You’re more or less in the same place.

It’s the exact same town, in fact,

full of replica streets,

downbeat, disheartening streets,

streets you’ve walked your whole life.


You’ve done everything you never wanted to,

been everything you ridiculed

before your descent over the horizon.

You signed on for a year or so.

You let a job keep you

after becoming scared of the alternatives.

You worry about your health a lot.


You often think to yourself,

“If only I could go back,

go back over the horizon,

free to just be myself again”,

                                          but then,

early one evening,

someone comes to you

with a cigarette and a milky brew,

and they kiss you on the forehead, gently,

and you know the old days are gone,

you’ll never go back over the horizon.


It could be worse,
                              couldn’t it.

You know it.

You know it for a fact.