Gleeful parasites intent on obliteration
feed on the stillness.
Starlight can't warm the damp grass.
If only he had cosied up once
for one last chance
to embrace.

I knew there was bound to be a collision
And I knew I would have to be the witness
So rather than avoid it, I anticipated it
I waited and waited, planned and plotted
The exact place and the time for inevitable to set in
The moment it occurred, I was numb
Envisioning it daily, relief flooded in me
Now it presented me, an opportunity to not ponder outcomes
I could enjoy the life as it comes
The collision was not in my purview
I had no investment whatsoever
But still got sleepless night for it.

Does the water reflect a piece of the sky?
In the photo I took,
I see the double transformation—
sky,
water,
digitalization.

One thought wrapped in excess words
fails to reveal stillness or truth.

It exists and doesn’t—
just one path in what we interpret.

Certainty distorts facts.
Time tangles itself.

A timeline slipping unnoticed
between belief and seductive hypnosis.

What was once conviction fades into a mirage.
Unveiled words build unyielding walls.
Communication is lost
the moment before the first word
is spoken.

Beneath the arch,
        among the branches,
      the maunder of her eyes
           finds noir in an afterimage,
every reflection is unique,
    explicit and indivisible,
        every reflection is her,
      there she looks close
       for gracefulness,
            in the essays of her skin
               and their brazen transparencies,
         she enters into her body fable,
      the shape of her resembles
           the tenor viol: where it widens,
                  where it narrows,
                where it digresses
              and monochromes,
           she reflects a fragile geography,
             a soft cargo, but
               an inkling of hurricane,
             rendering the fault lines
          beautiful and strong,
       in supplication tomorrow's explorer
will disturb the patterns
   until she's become her own lullaby