Air Castles Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

Castles in the air. They seem to be hung there
on strings of invisible contemplation's. Shimmering
in clouds dappled with false expectations. The sun
opens the windows with embraces of expectations.
We are inside these floating shelters, not inhibited.
No boundaries contain our focus. This the statement
of our shared perspective, our call to salvation as
we jump through the sunlight that captures us.

A war begins. We did not begin it. We now had
to decide if it was ours. To decline would be a
perception of awareness. You and I determine
the extent of our participation. Instead of
succumbing to our weakness, we stand with
anger at the waste of time. One day there
will be peace. We believe this. We feel only
the strength of our flying imaginations.

Partially, I wonder if our mutual pretensions
can manufacture the serenity we've proclaimed.
You laugh at me. It hurts. This begins the only
exit we achieve. Strange how stone can be so
deeply grievous. Odd how 'we' can so aptly
be given to retreat. Off you go, and I hate
the sound of the departure. But regardless,
I shall not be concerned. For you see, it does
not matter the configuration. I can close the
curtains and still be as strong as need be.

Flickering like a pill bottle without a cap,
in the air castles of my dying secret world.