There are times where
I hear,
I see,
Better than others,
Where the cacophony of light
And noise
Fades and melts away,
Leaving room for
The quiet and otherwise hidden
Whispers and colors,
Like the seconds between
The minutes on the clock,
To rise and be perceived
No longer less than,
But equal to,
Bringing with them
Clarity
And a profound sense
That we are not alone.
Lucid Moments
Published
Objects, and the Distance Between Them 