Hidden Structure

Beauty wilts
and love will flucture
what remains
is hidden structure

blushing primes
sly chiding knots
betwixt our thoughts

lives to create
chipping from
the ob’lisk slate

talk amoungst
our little selves
filling shelves

search we will
and see we’ll not
blindness is
our earthly lot

but the voice
of the void is vast
notice it
through the nets we cast


And I sit here, undeserving,
in a small flat
staring out the window, dear.
Thinking of patterns, and sometimes of regrets.
Staring at symbols, trying to see what the author saw.
Trying to be them, just for a second,
to glimpse the beauty they’d uncovered
by sitting in a small flat,
staring out of their window
thinking of patterns, and sometimes of regrets.