sometimes you peer into the abyss and select the unselectable.
your choice is your own, dear friends.
but when you grapple for something which is nothing to you,
then perhaps it is only a common untruth.
perhaps it is simply a wander through rain water
or a dense fog, frozen in space and time
like a sheet hung lightly around your shoulders.
perhaps it is nothing more
and nothing less
than your mind, carelessly hoping
for a woman, so lovely
or a man, all upright.
or perhaps it is your casual tides
all swaying with the moon as it hangs in the sky.
perhaps it is the sea as it rises.
perhaps it is the revival of your insides
as they prepare for the future duration of our collective unconscious.
perhaps it is your past lives, living
through your very own person who is now only you.
perhaps you skip like a needle on vinyl, scratched.

or maybe,
just maybe,
it is your heart and mind as one;
your soul brought forth through your eyes.

can you see it?
it’s yours.
it’s mine.