The Sun became a quill in a sky blue scroll. One foot in the tangible as worlds unfold. Birds and insects take flight to declare there is purpose in the solitude that heralds our despair.
As a shipwrecked sparrow hollers from a tree - "I am only just a body! What could be inside of me?!"
But then his unseen counselor that has a thousand voices reveals itself as a shelter in the storms of past choices.
The timeless wearing the fleshy mask of the timebound. A gargoyle delighted in the facade.
No one thinks enough of fantasy to see the clues so well-placed. -- And where we used to soar with purpose, now we simply stand in place. -- Demonstrating mortality, see it written on the face of collective consciousness; is it stubborn to embrace?
Presently I'm chasing presence. With both legs tied with guilty ropes. Through the suffering, the shadow of our true selves revolts.