Absolutely Miles Away …too many clouds, too little time…

oversight

maybe there’ll never again be
another perfect sunrise gazed upon by tired eyes
maybe these thoughts should see
a notion that these entities might not quite be real
but the product of a percussively detailed dream
a squashed mesh in which this city lies, entangled
enraptured
caught in real seconds
and those touched by shuddering disbelief.

trapped on a shifting sand between two lands
unsure of why or where or how to belong
as voices force future forgetfulness
have you known the answer all along?

take my hand; we can pass through this mirror
a journey to an impossible destination
when plate glass succumbs to versatile volatility
it is polite only to oblige, and fall in languid sublimation.

Maybe. But everything seems very maybe here… shifting and unsure. That seems about right.

Bohémienne : how can anyone ever be sure of anything? sorry, rather strange question there…