If There Was Just One Thing I Could Change

If there was just one thing I could change I would request an odd divinity to ferment in an Elixir Which never intoxicate, nor take the state beyond rationality No one is an aftermath of coping, coping in understanding , way upstream. As fallen shadows on a puddle of rainwater have nowhere to move or shift Only a hazy vibrations tell them a lot, as eloquence are often that, just that I can take a book that belongs to you, even without passing the faith test And outside, the lonely balcony and a streak of a moonlit story, is still viable I will wait for you there, your warmth, shirt and your a bit hardened posture these all, I can still try to smell hair oil that slowly calms down a bird nest, in a placid way And you can still surmise, after all these are turned down, and burned down, “I was thinking about her, as, she could be a better one!” Am I a transcribed poem? I often think these days. Am I a sound, like an abacus on a motif, that knew today, gathering yesterday or before As sunlight, dimmed prayer bids, these all are reaching, till none or nothing are there, in further need of anything To debate, derail or to juxtapose even, in any specific way I can rub your wrinkled skin, and wrinkle free attire, too. You and I, and the nemo in an axis, of a world, as a dipthong, somewhere The inevitable, frequency and the outlier, befitting for a fitting remnants!