An other,
outside of life,
a gleaned sum stacked into towers
that could never topple
because none ever amounted to a single stone.
This thing that, despite our best efforts to love,
often reminds us of a need to be contrary for the sake of being anything.
Still, all who attempt creation despite decay
carry a noble hope to never condemn the world
to an absolute knowing.
If described, heavier than ethereal
may come close to the tock implied in it’s tick, however neither
like now
and right now.
Obsessed only with the capture of this resurgent thief
I am attempting to draw a circle around with this passage’s entirety
knowing somehow, very well, that it cannot be contained.
There.
A phantom force lodged between complacency and rebellion.
The enigma itself
unraveling eternity for the sake of an intersection I cross
on nights where I could swear I was never a body
floating without need for up, down or any direction
because here all things reside in transit.
And it's here, with all my weight,
I vanish.