Absent

Here, just sitting then pondering these thoughts from yesterday
and nothing of grandeur had filtered through those half-opened --
no those semi-slitted blinds while everything else followed
in line-like parades; unscribbled passages lay perpendicular in
waves yet untold but somehow this brain could still process it all


For every surmounting doubt, another secondary breeze of air and breath
pardoned itself by, an prevalent note fell from one of the books
upon the shelf - silence was the merely scripted on it, yet I didn't
understand

Constructed lettering, this was strange, however compensation of
yesterday seemed undoubtedly unrealistic; fragmented pavement soon
provided a reason or perhaps it was the songs being played in these
ears where every sound-wave tickled the imagination...


Again, how strange


So now, while inhaling those mounting trepidations, a part of my
sanctity just simply walked slowly alongside the crackled convrete
waiting for those phrases to speak for themselves.  By perchance now,
the question of realization of concealed promises were the ones who
would've seen everything sooner than perceived