The sprinkled moondust
hovering above the wisps of clouds,
veil the puzzle pieces
as they linger
in the pools of wisdom
left behind by the sages,
where the thinkers have bathed
and left their sorrows,
to come out immaculate;
leaving a legacy
for the new intellectuals to put together.

To split a universal truth
Through the prism of poetry.
To write with mercurial mystery,
Employing cryptic non-sequiturs
After succinct statements of staggering profundity,
Is what I dream of as I contemplate
The enormity of my mediocrity.

Soft brown bread easily cut into
teeth seek out seeds to split
slight crunch of salad
green and still a little wet
brown spread of pickle
just a little, not too strong
save strength for the cheese
salty and satisfying, addictive
simple sandwich uncovering
memories of simple times
always sunny all the colours
seem brighter when I remember
family picnics games of rounders
wildly swinging the bat
I always missed
lounging on the green grass
gently placing crisps
with extreme precision between
the soft brown bread