the days like tunnels
overhead beams twisted
seeing us from a distance
in the memory haze
of those
who never
existed
thought was felt;
deeper than the ocean
it went down
into and
below
marks on quiet hands
like earthquakes
telling lies
do you follow
your lines…
?
yes, eyes falter
in times
of need
in times
of desperation
but not
in times
of the absolute
remarkable endeavours
through the grey
liquefied sky
if the trees could touch it
they would,
and they would be
the first
to know
however,
these marks resemble
the sand that trickled
through absent fingers
and onto the edge
it flew
no wind to carry
but thought -
thought became
more powerful
than the elements
and up through the tunnel
it went
created that
which never existed…
