when it lights up, and it isn't you...
and it's not. and it won't be.

I strain through the cloudy ether-
struggling to translate those fragmented strands,
crystalize them into some sense
but the swirls, and the void-
it's impossible to detangle

I see the shining pillar through the mist
but the fog around it-
is that your doubt, or is that the ultimate truth?

why did...?

maybe it's time I stopped...
tilting at windmills.