Elusive lulls of lucidity linger,
slightly, in my
retrospection-

behind thick, thick sprawls
of stones for walls, built to
defend what I felt, then
most relevant.

Once at escape,

I meet, at random,
apace
tangents
that spin
me gently into

Light,

wherein I sigh
at ease, slow-
ly breathing
in the peace flowing
abundant,

amid
Tranquility.

Lucidity's quite funny, in that
when precious to one,
proves slippery, and when gotten,
too foreign,

to keep lucid, in a state
that, without light, is
forsaken,
to the ever-
turn of

Chasing the Light.