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A rhyme, in time
I revel
in silent contemplation,
with a head full of
inebriation,
and simmer.
I know not
where these truths
are supposed to take me,
or whether I shall return.
But it somehow seems
evident
they must be absorbed.
As if holding pieces
of hitherto unmatched
pairs,
there exists a promise
of completion
that isn't yet quite
there:
A montage of movie scenes
with no context,
played in random succession.
Bars of music
detached from the each other,
pursuing a rhyme.
In time...
