conforming to differences
similarities desperately yielding.
illusionary beacons of grandeur,
they project triumphant maneuvers of purpose
masking the plain messes within,
struggling to cut through the fog.
they become grass
shriveling into the ground,
cold from paths unwalked
trapped in a permanent present.
yet the unfailing sun glimmers
with future hope of travelers,
traveling to find loves misplaced
seeking truth in what remains.
only to start again with new life.
a life welcomed by only the purest souls
yet those pure souls are blind
with blank complexities
holding their breath
knowing they can exhale at any moment,
but they don’t for fear of who will take it away
and so a lonesome far-off tomorrow waits.