Time wasters
Talk circles around my rolling eyes,
Nothing escapes them
But the point
Which is now ground duller than their wit.
Once proud pinnacles of though
Cannot be distinguished from
Littered words crusading for air.
Sunken cities subsist on stale ideas
And move feebly into tomorrow
As they shake the claws of yesterday
Only to suffer today.

But new ideas breathe resurrection
As chaos polishes the rusted ring
And births a dancing star.

In the sanctity of silence
The mountains breadth is great
And her teachings salient.

To the lone wanderer who marvels in her peace
Ants stand huge
And clusters of swirling air mob gusts
Upon resilient Green totems
Who whisper to each other
“When will we reach the stars?”

The Sinking sun beckons
And down the valley the noise is impassible.
Tired thoughts skip past traffic
And trying times await.

While I dwell in the present,

Coming from a past where I have never been

I slip seamlessly into a future I will never know

Each moment leaving an impostor behind

For a dwindling moment in each mark of time.

Where zebra dance
Pale moondrops break the great divide.

Decadent shrubbery gives way
To the rhythmic pattern of hooves
And the ground is alive and fluid.

The air is thick with childhoods odor,
Maturity’s complexion held at bay
As thoughts pure and simple
Make fantastic again
What had become unremarkable.

In a hidden bit of forest
Only zebra could know
Pale mushrooms grow as artifacts
Of the seeds that we have sewn

Reminiscent paths of the things that might have been
With lacy tendrils weave intricate loops through the air
As striped bodies leap in holy communion
Writhing in glory to the nights ephemeral song.