4 March 2014

Black Phantom

If only I could drift through existence so clandestine
Like birds flit through life and death
Seemingly phasing through spinning bicycle spokes
There must be some sort of happiness to be found
In choosing when to be and when not to
To shut it all off without shutting it down
Holiday by the seaside without a care
Being the waves clashing against the world
While languishing as the sandcastle of grandest childhood
The plastic bucket my saviour and creator
Still fighting as the giant robot from my dream
Creased reflections of myself in glorious red and blue
Becoming the weave that connects it all
No more intricate than delicate tapestry
Existing in nothingness and everything
Surely that is the hope that crashes my thoughts
The robot and the sandcastle and the bird through the spokes

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