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.
