not more than a drop of time,
in a desert of delusional hope,
for endless movement of now,
in a tethered mind of transposed regret

to know
that all will end,
and maybe today,
it’s time to spare a breath,
so pain does not rebound
in the step marks of someone’s maddening certainty
that there is a way,
a path,
laid out backwards,
into the weightlessness of power
reversed to choice,
in appearances under-real,
that call to follow
an avoidance
chasing the fallen
into the depths of the whirl
and doubts set free to a flow of illusions,
like blindspots of mindedness,
or reasons set free to an infinite pursued.

(inspired by the sounds of ‘Fate of the Fallen’ by Eternal Eclipse)