We dance by the window
shadows on the wall,
glance upward
at the wonder of it all.
Existence may have meaning,
desire its reward,
tomorrow may bring solace or
escape from blinding repetition,
yet i still choose to
capture fleeting moments with the
timbre and rhythm
that only words convey.
Consider it a sign
of childish vanity or
unashamed idleness
to be so possessed by
what is barely palpable,
lacking substance,
devoid of obvious purpose.
It is a measure of my weakness,
and my strength
a curious obsession.
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