Conscience Poem by Kyle Costa

Filling gaps; looking deeply
at nuance to see about
changing how things are remembered
and experienced.
It's 3 AM, and I'm committed
to having been risen, while
the sun searches for other horizons
just to dumbly stumble back
upon this one, unchanged—
just a little bit different while
everyone sleeps away its absence.
Everyone besides me,
a pioneer with
more time than usual to spend
de-shelling warnings or
steps taken backward;
even if I could space out the intervals
in the magnetic drag of mortality,
I would still be here: mulling.