I always appear to be roaming,
though sometimes the world in front of me
changes their eye color-
and I can't help but be a couple hundred
visions back....
My eyes do not see hope everyday,
nor do they grieve the coming walk
of abandonment.
Can you guess who I am?
Few and little can.
It's only in the shadows that follow me
that truly watch me,
as I make a collision and try to pick
the remnants out from under me.
Not everyday do I have the same goal,
it is more like whistling particles
I never notice until time freezes
the picture behind; then, I am more
unified, more structralized....
but soon I will materialize
elsewhere
find love in impersonal beings
and wish to be out of the universe.
This cycle of being
continues, just before I meet the friend
who wants to be more... than
a disappearance of thoughts.
He desires to be loyal to
where he is- and sooner or later
I will leave this indecision,
shaping into a courageous
standpoint of the life
he and I will light.
