lost.
Rediscovered in my
fragment self.
Splintered form of
irregular cracked edge
surface wiped smooth.
Invisible fractures formed
on personality,
grow to form
canyons of deep
longing for that
which is lost.
To memories passed,
beyond comforts
frayed and fearful.
Pass away time,
slipping through cold
numb fingers,
to stumble neatly onto
pastures new formed
distractions from
click over glitch,
back to the beginning.
What was that thought?
Nailed down, cycled return,
which was that thought?
Thoughts spinning pin the tail
chasing one after the other.
That old familiar warmth
seeping out of the body's
deathly decomposition.
So many places, thought has been,
but now exiled
is set adrift.
Explore new tangential
hopes of mornings
offering glimpses
of meaning hidden
behind false dawns
of tomorrow's lies.
Gently put down all thought
and embrace what is
left in kind and
graceful acceptance of
this place as consequence
of paths previously
chosen.
