An ocean between,
tears to be seen
plagued through mirrors
that don’t reflect
what we want back.
In return,
for the world,
we burn for what
we can’t describe,
without losing touch
with the floor.
We’re standing
just to keep standing
this despair,
moving through
thickening air,
tangled in
matted hair.
Stability’s aglow
for seconds,
because we know
nothing’s meant to last,
journeying on,
building more
to collapse
into a den
of dust.
What will we do,
while we hope,
while clinging close
wishing to undo
this purpose
for calamity?
Leave a Reply