Disjointed thoughts, as clouds consort
to inspire sky’s vast credibility,
a veil of eternity in blue explanations,
crusted ages in stark uncertainty,
night surprise and vulnerability,
in shadowed dark resolves
yet lit by a moon involved
in covert operations,
stilling dark anticipations
to hold on till daylight.
crested abrupt illumination,
as sky falls in starlight fading,
to days orange yielding of the new,
and thoughts float upon a pond,
glimmered gold on and on,
like horizon never reached,
impeached for clandestine abbreviations,
yet to be tried,
and thoughts waver: truths or lies.
Striped light through window,
awakening vision time,
coffee begging, mind forgetting,
and all the time heart pounding words,
skin obliging, eyes squinting crunch,
yielding not to clarity,
some disparity in this whole ordeal,
as thoughts try a field of placement,
to the smorgasbord berated for timing.
Mug like a life raft,
two handed, guided to the hole,
and the first sip is like a hit,
shudder, eyes closed in bliss,
and thoughts like circling flight, ignite,
like a jolt of electricity,
simply: where am I? dead or alive?
and other such esoteric questions,
yet the silence of non-response is drowning,
a gurgle and frowning,
as steps taken confuse some more.
When those clouds clear, and day admits,
I’ll sit and give it some thought.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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