Break the surface of glass,
My movements so slow, like I wasn't there,
It continued to pass,
Then clusters of bugs shimmered on it, too,
As I glided through them,
Collections of pixels ne'er to return,
In exactly that configuration,
I immersed myself as deep as I could,
Silk soft tendrils touched feet,
Nothing to save me should they choose to grasp,
I'd not call that defeat,
P'haps surrender,
To what I'm already,
If the universe fell in on itself,
Would you call that some kind of victory?
No comments:
Post a Comment