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The gates of authority dulled with memorable craft
Warping in a rather untypical fashion in such an unusual perpetual moment
The moment that is always truly desired but impossible to achieve
The always “Tomorrow’s” goal of inner peace and quiet superiority
The gates of logical depression collapsed behind me; its visible stakes of no apparent
matter becoming once again
invisible
This gate was no longer in fear’s good will

Instead there was left only the dusky-black gates of an eerie perilous and dusk-like joy
That joy that we have always wanted and, much to order’s spite, that leaves both the
physical and the touch-less fog of dissipated existence in a state of impenetrable
success
That joy in my world and in my touch
In reality
A dull relief
A thankful acceptance
An unfocused gift

Down the invisible and silent path we went
Filled with the contradictory sounds of general clatter and the once set-to-be logical path
of day
But day had long dissipated
Here existed a time when everything could be found but nothing could be
seen as
truthful
No obvious essence could be taken; only the hope that this core of life would come
again and forever stay as if it were
It was impossible to define this purified presence in the shadow of those who understood
There was too little to prove and yet too much to forget
How could one see what was just past the sight of eye?
Did we even look?





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