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.