It is

It shimmers
in reflection
each moments illusion
pieces rising
and falling
fluidity

It sings
without voice
from each movement
and meaning
intrigue entranced
by entire

It sighs
without breath
the relaxing
of action
the triumph of quiet
amongst screaming

Unseen visions

If you could see
paths sparking off
from each moment
you would be stalled
by infinity

My tiny minds opening
is pounded by visions
and the pressure present
is crushing potential

I cannot process
the beautiful
the harshness intensity
of floating alone
and immense

These painfully
poor renderings
of any lost moment
feel crude
and offensive
and false

I wish I could
close my eyes
and return to the dream
instead of lying here
dreading the day