Puffs of heaven cascade through the sky

Disappearing into the hard surface of reality

Journey through time and space like strange bits of dreams that no one owns

Falling faster and faster within no boundaries

Evolution of an oncoming storm takes the stage

The tone is relevant to the maker whose choices guide the hands of time

Drops from wet tongues trickle with slow malice

Its cause is unknown but not the pre-empted thought

And thus, desperation becomes the clock that becomes the controller.

Jussme

© 2004 Francesca Amico