I saw the whites of your eyes and the scene passed through me.
These moments.
Everyone knows the ones, a face, a date, a recurrence in pathways or acquaintance.
So unlikely, yet as already happened, or should be as it is, exactly.
Perceptual confusion in a split of a second, time knows of the instance and bares the skill in strength, to lend to bare this gift of consciousness.
Like lines of life being drawn at different frequencies, running right through you, positing experience from another dimension or perhaps another version, sad or kind, past or
present, this life or other, registered relativity at least, leaving a scar in one’s mind, in passing.
Why do I know you in such a way, and how can I desire you in such a fashion, as if to be rekindled yet we’ve never met, I feel like I’ve longed for you.
Conscious Time aligns this cosmic social gift, your galaxy shines in your iris, discovered not born,
I love your universe.
Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 7:24 PM UTC
I saw the whites of your eyes and the scene passed through me.
These moments.
Everyone knows the ones, a face, a date, a recurrence in pathways or acquaintance.
So unlikely, yet as already happened, or should be as it is, exactly.
Perceptual confusion in a split of a second, time knows of the instance and bares the skill in strength, to lend to bare this gift of consciousness.
Like lines of life being drawn at different frequencies, running right through you, positing experience from another dimension or perhaps another version, sad or kind, past or
present, this life or other, registered relativity at least, leaving a scar in one’s mind, in passing.
Why do I know you in such a way, and how can I desire you in such a fashion, as if to be rekindled yet we’ve never met, I feel like I’ve longed for you.
Conscious Time aligns this cosmic social gift, your galaxy shines in your iris, discovered not born,
I love your universe.