My glasses, all rainy

I see now through a window ebbing about.

I look into a world so smeared.

A world stretched out to newer proportions,

A canvas of lights stretching its web-like fingers

to dress itself as stars once born

and the next as only outwardly dressed all composed.

The lights so brilliantly stand and waver as my gaze floats about,

They show off in all their glory what it could possibly be

But all knowingly figure out what it really is.

A world fluidly moving in all patterns

Where some stars come and go ever so slowly

And others only seen in a breath

And so little can be related

To my own volition

A world so full of chaos but of beautiful tides and shallow waters

That water so clearly not making the world so clear

If washed away only to return to the distortion it so longingly paints

We so longingly splash and dance within

That we forget to clean our glasses off more often


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