Ergo

I thought,
Is that a little too close, good enough?
Enough to just touch and go,
So to simply stand back and gaze:
Would it be a step too far, indeed?
I hear quite a bit these days
In common of the folk I draw
Of my sleep, and that of my dreams

Far and near,
But not much to begin with, really?
There is so much to rush now and about,
Breathless, forever for an experience:
Of sullen innocence or dogged prejudice?
And that is a step too far again,
Perhaps close enough-
For me, nothing would change an empty stare.

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Raw

Pursuing my days with relentless obsession makes the best of the ironic to the faculties of all what I perceive. No day is a holiday, no time like now. Everyday is a new step to my discipline, call it a personal synchronicity to the every changing moon and nights I live. The more I'm lost, the closer I am in the answers estranged from my mind and to what I hope. As to question, tell me how soon is now? Alive enough to take on me because I'm just so sick of the noise in what I hear and see. God.