on the horizon of tribulation
 variables hover as unwritten expressions
       the plane of abstract thought
         a stream of consciousness
           holds memories from long ago
                
   the uncertainty holds us
      close as a ghost
      our worlds float further away
       and the fatigue remains
         intimately alive

      when I sit alone
     she shows me that I'm small
      too imbued with a tendency
          to exude, to emote
              I am barely vocal
         the plan is predictable
       you pluck sentiment from thin air
          and with a flap of your wings
               take off into trepidation