the day folds and bends
shimmering in the moment from afar
vanishing from your fingers
ephemeral
those hazy days when I wish I were the wind that waves softly goodbye and follows the air wherever whenever
to a perhaps, to a perhaps
pools of thought drip from dreaming clouds
leaking into minds wasting away starved in the hidden
is it love that we die for to fill the emptiness in our wandering souls
to find that the only lover we have
is death himself
nothing in this world is sure
but the trees keep growing
and this world keeps spinning
as if it has a purpose
a reason to
on and on it runs
with no thought
to hold its breath for at least a minute
