more light stills ones senses
look with intense understanding
letting go, your belief in dominating
the external facade of players
dressed to support the ego's
determination to be seen and heard
without any slight interruption, release
the behavior, simplicity of lies, volumes
of those retreating, each word spoken
narrows ones ability to break free from
the alphabet of determined loss,
sequences of words that describe your
perceptions with eyes ready to label
colors as being excentric for if one digs
under the service of ones evaporating
depth, your consciousness an eccentric
looking, desiring the fragments of a reality
worked to become a mirage of ones actions
hoping that the sentiment of beauty still
presents itself as one begins to age and
finally sits quietly looking at the sky
remembering those moments as children
as shooting star's streaking across the
black candles lit sky settles into a field
as the farmer comes out and acknowledges
his neighbor as the world begins to spin
and the temperature rise and each of us
determined to surface without jumping ship
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