gnarled fingers of delicacy 
point to a sky as inwardly pointed 
the new suns light a caress in itself 
why do only some of the leaves remain? 
on the nearly naked tree of a nameless guilt 

silently in breezes of inconsequence 

sitting... 

standing 

neither up nor down in this orb of pretentious equality 

to mark a meadow of seemingly endless green proportion 
quiet musing delays importance of entreating task 

truth in deception... 

maybe a solitary standing on surreal plains 
isn't quite the fulfilling hollowness i once saw 
or it might just be that to see this is in itself a lie 
perhaps in this lush dew ridden land it was only meant 
to be me upun this enticing backdrop of inner peace 

a sigh escapes the loss of your perception 

to 
be 
he 
that 
is 
not 
what 
he 
wants 
to 
be 
is 
to 
see 
what 
not 
to 
be 

memory of alluring worlds in satin 
missing peices of my final absolution 
yet fear not my mate of souls 
i still see as clearly as i see you are not 

what are you not? 
are you not what i am? 
or am i what you find me not? 

time warped sense 
of interwined priorities 
butterflies in a jar 
a poignantly sad reminder 
of exquisite beauty bound