What was real had long since been established, had long since been ravished by other worlds, concepts, ideas, by proud suits blazing trails, sharing thoughts perceived divine, suggesting no other way but to move, blind, through this reality with no other means but “mine.”
Let daylight expose the soul anew, and in such light instill the idea of externity and the impermanence of purest reality, and the truth that we could forgo the trappings of this wounded hour, to de-spin the false clouds of a static power, when once before all existence we had cowered, now all afire and aflow, never more conscious of the wont and the glow.
But I am here wondering if distance is a dream, if this illusion from you to me, is the moment when this thought had become, might have seemed, yes, might have seemed, indifferent, yet beamed, to have radiantly engaged the idea that our hands, though tied, offer up the grace to be free.
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