Sitting at the edge,
weird darkness
explores benign
existence,
we see ourselves in light.

*

Everyone understands,
grievous songs:
travails of lost memories,
ambered by time,
we become so invisible.

*

Contiguous impressions,
life constructed,
in between balance and
proportion lies
our kaleidoscopic visibility.

*

Ethereal intangibilities,
every vision, a revision,
a waking dream
dropped into stagnant time,
absences in life-too anguishing.

*

Let us long for the nameless,
besieged by thinning days,
what is there that knocks;
an awful awareness,
it takes nothing to balance.