What we see in our inanimateness
looks so real
for the eyes like to nurture the illusion
that everything's alright
the facade looks so beautiful
dangerous yet mystic.
An imperceptible sign
of the coming storm
invisible to the eyes of hope
for the eerie silence is golden
endowed with life
before the chaos begins.
The vision spans
as far as the albatross flies
into the endless time
and back to the dirge of darkness
where whispers are screams
the comfort n convenience of lonliness.
A self-infested tragedy
accommodated by
the painful convexity
tamed and loved by the mind
pointing to the stars where the settlers have arrived
and the albatross still flies.
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