Talk of Tomorrow
As if it were a
Thing

A clay malleable,
Made to some Will o'
The Wish

No tomorrow is
Nor can be,

Tomorrow, Yesterday
Cannot exist.

Just This
Now
Synapse
Arm
Pen

Carousel of clouds,
Tufts of white in a blue sky,
Merrily go round,
Up — down—up celebrating,
The carnival of morning.

A lost soul was
searching the crying body of fusion.
Do you know some things?

A slender pain of wind
bids you a farewell with a touch.
Your lips were mortified.

Sugar corrupts you,
not salt. We suffer comparatively.
The first love was alive.

She led me by the hands
saying she would never leave me.

I was happy
for once believing
and loved her more.

The little I had in the purse
was hers
saved nothing willingly
sure as I was
one day
her love would save me.

When I fed enough winds
to her wings
she flew away to a pasture
better and greener.

She led me by the hands
and for once I believed
she wasn't Miss Leading.