Along multitudinal channels
Infinite possibilities exist.
Yet all universes point to you
And in all, you're sorely missed.
The mind plays tricks on us
As the imagination interrupts
With a reality where we lie in peace
Without the surrounding chaos.
A present on the road in awe
Of nature's biggest achievements.
A present without separation
Where that restlessness subsides.
Presently the future feels like home
While the the present isn't real,
An author under a pseudonym
Or cliched red herring.
I fell in love with your mind
But ran away in mine,
I think perhaps you did the same
And flew away in time.
Still at home when you write,
Or text, or call past three am.
For now i lie awake at night
Hopelessly wishing for then.
This sometimes passing yearning
Falls quiet while I sleep,
Wish fulfilment filters through
And reality takes a leep.
Like the oscillation of electrons
Through expanding neural pathways
You fluctuate between hemispheres
Bringing split-second clarity.
Here I sit in false nostalgia
Wishing a different prologue,
Yearning for a different arc,
Longing for a life unlived.
Perhaps next time you sit there too
You'll adapt the narrative.
“The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.”
― L.P. Hartley, The Go-Between