there is a mistake in this state
unknown from back then
so I amuse myself
in comparing both strains
of a long, lost sense
one from pristine time of simpler things
the calm exposure and experience to our ways
everything so subtle, yet so clear
feeds me with the fittest of dreams
and this, something of everything, so sudden, fast, what you cannot grasp
like a hurricane made of moths, and you jump from the flock
and swim in melted clocks in parallel processors
tragically, it all fades down in about an hour
and all you can barely is to sever the weather
stop and get some paper, have a deep breath
and try to be clever and write it all down
