And I’m released in tiny bursts,
Like suddenly remembering what color the sun is,
Like remembering we’re all a bit like laser beams.
Why do I lean against the walls of the cave,
Self-regulating my impulses and bright-eyed notions
In a bubbling laboratory, upended with what I thought I wanted,
And what I felt was true?
That blue cord of boundless vision is either suddenly in shadows,
Or doesn’t want to come to the party as often.
Or you’re sitting on it and you don’t even realize it.
What's the bother? You’re making it all up, anyway.
Though it does matter what you’re creating.
This is the time and you know it.
And as vanity runs to the basement
The blue hues brittle into something near bliss.