Reality

Square dew drops, trickling, opaque, the expanse of flesh, lingering a moment,  the scorching sun, strained from cool in-shade universe, rests in two-minds, evaporates. Love ballads, screeches the harp, wind-chimes gasping,  stuck closed doors luring lovers,  heartbreaking acts,   searching where none exist, in-end exiting, the honesty of the hearts.  A puff,  the sand-filled ball fades with tortoise speed, the wind combs  collected dirt on heads of hair, grinds to a halt, burdened  by weight, painting red-eyes. The poet  grapples, imagination-fragments  in assorted puzzles, with godly senses,  hoping, creating no-sense lyrics, hastening before summoned, a rendezvous  with the righteousness  of the rhyme. Wake up: it’s but a dream.