to the sounds of the night muffled by water
unspoken thoughts break the quietness
and all the questions and statements
swimming around are apparent spirals.
movement occurs in fits and starts,
like history repeating itself
except names and faces change
until (if ever)
the revolutionary epiphany.
lately my eyes search for the lines
where light becomes shadow
so gradual on a wall or pavement,
although, most of all
i adore the sharp edged shadows.
the kind you could slice
despite cupped hands
overflowing with rain.
it's about the certainty
of being one or the other,
a way of being
so unfamiliar and intriguing to one
whose multifaceted interior
is inclined to see every angle simultaneously.
where lines are rarely so defined.
a world where i am the colour of cherries.
i am the slate grey electric sky.
i believe in people.
and you might be all the proof i need..