The passage of time
Perception disconnected
By a mind consumed

The morning was blue.
Maybe it was the room.
A will to resume overcome by what looms.
A feeling.
It's no use, the sun knows we're fading.
Gasping.
And trading pain for distraction.
A bail out.

But beneath the cancerous commerce lives the unfelt,
the un-dealt with speculation: that my vessel is a flawed innovation;
that frightened children may have found a moment's passion
and left us with moods as fickle as fashion.
These tangled wires clash and blur the line
between my mind and fine,
So unless we redefine unrefined, life will continue in kind
as long as my time in this queue to resign.

Then, as my life hangs it’s warped canvas
on a world of new advancements
awakened in me: the chance it’s… just us.

A planet that's born afraid. Sold lemonade,
and not shown how it's made.
Crawling wave after wave, and gasping "be brave!"
If they saw us all frayed, with pounding hearts swaying to the drum of the wave.
If they saw it this way, maybe the brave would have stayed.

The morning was blue, but I heard it can change
We’re only human, after all—manmade.
Moulding and shaping a future to paint
Imagine what shades we could see if we wait.

This morning was blue, but the afternoon was purple.
A shade I have never seen.
Made me not want to blink, and I think you'd like it more.
The lore was true, it does get brighter than the morning that was blue.

I’m not looking for perfection
I’m not looking for a distraction
But you’re my intervention

I’m not really sweet
I don’t want to get in a relationship
But you made me

I’m sorry that i’m distant
That i’m not clingy
But i’m distracting myself to think

I was caught up in the usual daily wrangle
for my attention among the images and stories
on my phone and the computer’s tangled
tries for some small measure of life’s glories.

Then I looked up from the bright screen
and saw the long elegant leaf lit by the sun.
The tributaries of its mysterious green
softened and focused me from many to one.

I lost my crazy mind in this living blade
and found this poem waiting there for me
in the simple power of its now where I stayed
for a tender eternal moment in its joyous jade sea.

Blinkered and blindfolded
and hooded for good measure
- I run.
And when I run out of road,
that's when I fly.