Here,I sit under the tree.
Playing a game of shade and sun with the branches and leaves.
I don't know them,
yet they reveal me.
I,a Mighty stranger,
Struggle to envision the panorama of the skies.
Truth and lies?
In the treacherous company of delusions,
I go seek.
Now,I lay on Earth
with the dried maple leaves.
And the skies divulge,
as the clouds glide with the eddies of wind and well,time.
Is time the reminder of existence?
Or is it the lane of memories?
Yet only one road is known to me.
Paranoia.
Thus I rise from dust,
Shedding off the leaves and soil.
To bid adieu to the trees and the skies
who still prize their Unknown.
Time,was now preposterous.
The sun descending in a bliss.
I go to seek a Great Perhaps.