Is it true, is it false: a picturesque image upon a star?
Friends die in each other, loving thoughts—angered over possibility.
I was fishing inside; it must be awareness:
sudden into an uplift.
The oceans seem to waft to shore;
seagulls witness passion,
something immortal is knitted,
souls feel immature again.
I try to drag it out of blueness;
I tug at it from turquoise glimpses;
you keep with ignoring us.
Such contradiction in a glance.
Maybe I see hopes, dreams, at life too long.
Seafaring wishes, girded by soothsaying;
so exposed, in a lonely crowd, such a dying trope.
We have a time trying—in speaking, we tread carefully.
I sense physics; I hear meta.
Phrenic music: needing the needs of needing.
So futuristic in thoughts, such dear exploration, if to long for us with desperation: to gather pieces, to unknot fragments, to swear upon a paradox.
I garner upon cosmos—to assert knowingness, to imagine love;
as a dear liar: to need it with restrictions, to proffer an idea, to believe in us an ideal; as if … tsunami passion … baptism tears … furious, unyielding redemption ….
