I've floundered upon the ripples of the sky for so long now
the transmissions of many songs reverberate on through
a rainbow wake of cascading arias alighting both sides
of the pathway that has chosen me upon it to wander
as if aimless toward a destination unable to know
in time to become acquainted with the necessary
details accumulating one at a form like drops of
water pooling on a leaf to be shed once upon a
tone unto a flowering world dying to be borne
into the recurring slipstream of babel-laughter
sculpting the sensual edges of our lens we see
through together into the territory of our lives
with enough clarity to perceive we aren't real
to begin without enough sustainability to even
be believed in the first place, much less face
to be dispelled by another's insistence you're
of no merit in the instance so be it the line is
drawn in the sands of time spilling in vortex
storms to be spun into the glass architecture
of our dreams shape-shifting from conjured
impossibilities into our own concrete reality
which is to say merely how we each create
not just our own worlds but also the whole
cloth we're weaving appears to be deceiving
at least half of the populace most of the time
or some of the remainders are unexplained the
chosen few caught in their vortex view suspend
each other's imaginations doing what they've yet
always suspected the other to be even while fulfil-
ling their destiny driven to the point of being riven
in twain along the rippling moment foundered upon
