Something sacred taken;
Torn from fingers grasping
At a wraith of things held dear.
Avoiding grasp, fog-like.
Helm now unmanned.
The captain, apathetic,
Navigating blindly;
Insidious, with guile.
All things ephemeral, truly.
Permanence, an illusion.
Substance made fluid
Endows fluidity of mind.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 11:46 PM UTC
Something sacred taken;
Torn from fingers grasping
At a wraith of things held dear.
Avoiding grasp, fog-like.
Helm now unmanned.
The captain, apathetic,
Navigating blindly;
Insidious, with guile.
All things ephemeral, truly.
Permanence, an illusion.
Substance made fluid
Endows fluidity of mind.