junkpt4

a crackle echoes through the evening sky
majestic colors entice the senses
the tranquil sea joins the angry sky on the horizon
the mind drifts floating with the tide
thought trumps speech

sails down and coasting
paths predefined by the semantics of the current
our disjoined lives somewhere inbetween
both pulled by the same forces
we drift toward the illusion

Time circles innocently
waiting to inspire