Lingering Transience

Those faithless meandering creeks slip and drive far past these rocks

which do nothing but bind feet to this realm of our creation

a vision solemnly wavering in the back of your mind like yesterday's thought

trapped and replayed all day today

the mist finds itself engulfing the mountains

leading them to be trapped in their own ignorant infancy

isolation gives one at least the realization that thoughts means something


A thrown harsh wind bounces off the treetops

leading to a calm beat driven by the swaying

all the while the trees just hoping for the excitement of the crack

beneath their forgotten stagnant trunks

no bright yellow light to be found

no blue moon of past hopeless nights

there is only the infinite otherworldly grey of the clouds' fierce grasp

peaks and cliffs may still lay in wait somewhere

far from the lingering minute by minute playback of lives

the woods will breed none that it does not first declare its own

stubborn and cruel in the escape of this layered lost valley


The fence posts and fields slowly fall away from existence

and world within world we inhabit

but none more clear than in the deep forge

where man was laid in stones of past, bark, and timeless ponds

but for some odd reason mist is place less

to appear only at the most ominous of times

ready to displace all that exists

and leave pondering for the mind only

this holy world of transient nothing

and the continual existence of the calm fluid motion

finally wrap past the feet, up the body and into the skull

clarity is a word defined only by perception

The End

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