There is a void
Somewhere between what is perceived
And what wishes to be.  

A place for that which lingers,
On precipices and peripheries.  
Dancing

On edges of reality,
Out of hands reach,
In the corner of the eye.  

Belief lies between
Knowledge and imagination,
Carving a gap between
The late and the early.

Reality is real
Only to those who live it.
For the rest,
It’s just a story to be told.  

Time is the void,
And through it we weave
Our own mythologies.