Not here to instill a habit
More joy in you stumbling upon it
Pulling rabbits
Out of a hat
And as dubious as it may sound
Sometimes what’s lost
Doesn’t want to be found
Under scrutiny
For some post game punditry
This is not a mold
A figure, still out,
figuring it out
Dance counting under each breath
A conductor flailing
A matter of life or death
To keep in time
Before it is time
In between before and after
We are either running away from
Or desperately chasing
Always either
Rarely about now
So, yes, you may have came across this
Tumble weed of thought
On some dusty road en route
to the sands, next to the abyss
Where one, like many, wish
To drown
And never be found
danDAman 