Trembling hands and clumsy trust,
Lashing out at the smallest prudence
In the hope of a never-ending hush…
No cracks or cackle shall disarray
This tryst with hypnosis, we’ve all come to obey.
Where it began, how it grows
A flightless beanstalk or a rabbit hole,
Beyond knowing where it goes…
We all agree to slither in pursuit…
Where boulevards all come to meet,
And twilighted sunset reclaims the weed,
And our stolen thunders collide mid-sky…
Our shattered cups do fly…
Hanging computers, dysfunctional phones,
Isolated captives, distractions alone…
Soul-mates, many, who never yearn to kiss,
A smile, a surprise before we begin to wish…
Nothing falls apart…because everything does,
Nothing has to heal…because everything does.
When the stars do begin to finally fade,
These cups will ascend and take their place…
High up in the sky...
Wondering what we were.
All in a day’s work,
The hearts do heal.
A pat on a back,
And a repaired heel…
And it all reverts
To seemingly unreal.
Only a chosen thunder
Chase our lightning trills...
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