Grey Wisp

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the pieces, scattered through history, millenniums
ill-shaped, jagged edges, revolving, resolving
alone, without meaning, unless brought together
one piece dissolving into another, breaking apart
mystery hidden within mystery, hooded by, grey
tiny grey shapes emerging, merging into a, shape

the thin line twixt and t’ween, truth and lie
enters, the probability of a beginning or ending
to tell or not to tell, with their halves, caught
frought with fragments of knowledge, twisting
spun, woven from  wisp’s, stretching, outward
not to be given life nor to examine too closely
the grey twists across the universe, delves deep
while the stars asleep in their nebulae, close
spinning within the heat of their cores, hot lava
flows warming, undiscovered, unknown, unthinking
giants to trod closely, without footsteps to lead
the ultimate, life, grasping knowledge, tightly
the pathway to truth or crossover to lie, caught
twisted into a myth of epic’s desire for resolution
focused, a narrow beam of light does not dispel
only to bespell the unwary, and promise, nothing
yet driven to sight or seek, a quark or Quixote
grey shapes, emerge, merge, howl with laughter
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Categories: Literature, Poetry

2 replies

  1. When someone lies, and you know it, because you have fact, it’s a truth or dare moment. heh

    Liked by 1 person

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