pattern of five.
That which is missing seems so tangible
today; yesterday it was nondescript.
I can count the places and
prepare the conversations, diced and measured,
that these empty days need to contain.
In disguise, absence is a diversion from normal
(the ever elusive state waiting to be caught)
but even if it stings like a secret
its sense of purpose is consecrated away
and tomorrow is forecast to be good:
like the dormant time before a sprout
like the mouthwatering anticipation within delicacy
On the radar I see purpose walking toward homenow more responsible and stronger than before
Now placing what I never knew
into potential that was never missing 5.7.10
into a jar
fleeting as the wind
momentary life holds simple potential.
meeting timewithout inked agendas
hearing cryptic clues slowly
weakness melting idols into ashes
easy black monotony
suspended advice between highs
all is clear within honesty