Truth be told,

any one of these illusions that ground us

behold their delusions.

That if I close my eyes just long enough

time may stand still.

And at this moment,

right now,

everything is ok.

The universe will be ok.

These delusions will manifest

at any given time.

After all, the universe is

an exquisite paradox.

I can see you and hear you clear as day,

but you’re no longer here.

I know that you exist(ed)

so forever you shall exist.

You dreamed of a broken palace,

liminal yet alive,

where I will always reside

in the mind’s eye,

or in the open plains.

Our bonds remain

unbroken, forever.

Entropic.

Chained.

Unhinged.

Was that your ghost passing by me,

and laughing?

I just recalled you giggling

that you would like to change your Southern accent.

It mattered the world.

Now I whisper your words in the dust.

You cannot create energy from nothing.

Something ephemeral has run its course.

And everything is still possible.

That one day you will

change.

And the delusions that kept you going

burn bitter.

In my dreams you sound more

Northwestern.

And let it be

only in dreams

or a parallel universe.

Truth escapes the eye of the beholder

At any given infinite point.

Right now is illusive,

only delusions may drive me,

as I wrap a knitted shawl

you once wore

across my shoulders

to find warmth

where you once sheltered,

and practiced a new accent

to kill the little time you knew

that you had left.