Apr 27
Glimpse
Perspectives shift A quiet thunder as the roots push up Under my footing. I am wobbly. I am Statuesque, too. Frozen in place, trying to Signify this instance Wherein… the window of vision Cracked to reveal the scenery Without reflections? I am guessing. Maybe it's tectonic plates, clashing. Maybe it's déjà vu. That could be true. A view, Registered before my brain could Wrap it up and seal it in a framework, Labeled: Things, understood. And it should, lest I lose my mind Trying to figure out how reality felt light, Then a burden again; trying to comprehend How you were there, and, then, you weren't, Leaving only your scent To linger.
--- 27-4-2026, M.A. Tempels ©