Longing to be forsaken,
taken by time and its dream of
the world beneath it.
The cloud that I fly can be shared,
only to let go of a selfish nature:
haunting what is real, undiscovered,
to be last; lost affection.
Time exists for all,
taken away by straining, faceless soldiers
of our work. Needed like dough,
and baked with care, twisted to be devoured
in two bites:
the beginning and...the middle?
How can one passion
stay the test of time and will?
Who might take and hold the impenetrable fortress
of our souls. Forsaken rhythms of a
past,
a Pyrrhic battle, losing once only to
win the war.
Will a victory suffice?
Bring the ultimate test:
friendship.
Knock, Knock.