See the eye of a flying dragonfly, hovering as you back away
Dry your feet on the side of the bank and wait
As you look up past the trees to see, if the breeze was visible that day
Find a cloud in the sky that is not too high and then brush it all away

A handful of years ago,
from the Light, appeared the Dark.
And then, a flashback meant no fallback;
for the reality of yours became
more desirable than my fantasy.
I was wasted but not spoiled, though,
I have already made my peace
with the void of you,
for all I need now
is not your parts
but my own wholeness:
a structure in the flesh.

I do not worship nothing
Because it's the opposite of something
Instead I find only slight praise in those moments
When a quiet something new emerges
From what I perceive to be
But probably isn't
Nothing at all

Declarative me, saying what I was
With a question inbetween

Feeling better as if I'd breathed again
In the quiet stillness of unthinking

In such words I lose myself for a min
Until hours catch up and overtake me

As if questioning what I was and then
Sets me free to begin and be

This is how I tend to write and then
This is why, it's is not, and for me