discernment.

time is being robbed from me.

task is a boastful thief.

 

it leaves pieces of my soul astray;

unkempt and cluttered.

entangled with foreign thought and feeling.

 

you see, this varies from time to time

as time its self slips by too fast

and i do not have a handle.

 

 

i long to reach through the obscure, push past the commotion

and find my grasp; to discern the light.

 

for me, it requires images, and often words to accompany.

 

 

-the most beautiful thing about the future:

it hasn't happened yet-