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Multiple choices with one last try, amid this myriads maze

Someone very dear unto myself asked me the other day

"Is the sun shining where you are?"

So I took a crystal glance, into an oblong box....

Actually I thought, as I peered ever closer into this warping glass

It all seemed somewhat cold, wet and gray!

Raindrops dripping from the mostly barren branches

And winding their way down the misted window, of panaramic views....

Hues reflecting, submitting, the paradigms of practices profound?

A darker shade, shades, rippling the prevailing winds

Which echo within this momentary passing, of paradoxical hands

Words of whispers, which seem so transparently clear

But only in the vague, of twilights turning....

As abstract, as the voices I have heard as of late!? 

While clinching leaves, left upon the transient trees

Tattered by the gust of times perpetual blinds, descend

Within these obtuse waters; like tossing waves about a churning sea

To and fro, amid the riptides, of teeterings dance and sway....  

While holding on like spoon fed birds, upon the precarious wires, of waverings way

Bathing in these open skies, of morellos want and need! 

A concord of sorts; this hearse of harmonies chords

Smatterings of immersed, within the funnels of fallings, from whence they breed

Shadows, dancing beyond the dimming lamp post lights

Crooked forms cast, as the silence begins to settle in....

For all is not always what it sometimes seems!?

And yet, there are some that still do stand, afore these chalkboard blocks

Always beholding the brighter promises, of the soon to be coming day ~

Theirs is no easily shaken reed, beneath these storms of seethe....

Where maliciousness is not within the window wells of proven

Sorrows, always sprinkled upon the platters, of these hell bent things?

The answers found within the prisms, of risings columns beyond the rain 

Inverted reflections, spiraling from the tainted gray grim skies

While these cankerous versions of resonatings darker light....

Subterranean realities, of the solar ecliptics matinee midnights, implode!   

Sitting upon my window ledge, an image, of the end of time

Hat in hand, with a familiar impish smile, and, the hollowest of eyes?

A reprise, of the wet, the cold, and the blue-black, day....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                                                 The Mad Hatter
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