Utopian Visions Poem by Timothy J. Burgess

I am myself no more
While waltzing the starlit pores of the maimed moor,  
Miming the maestro's virtuosity 
While leaning lightly on the moon's magnificent score.
Soft billows of wind caress the pillars of men,
We digress and discuss no longer where or when.
As we stroll through the struggling abyss of plains and polarities
We find peace in our own disparities.
The bones of night bare themselves in pale white
When time slips through the bizarre and vague gateways of consciousness,
We slowly fall victim to the morning light.
Then realizing that realization is imprisoning us to the weary roundabout of 
Wrestling listless restlessness. 
We fight to stay afloat in our 
Fleeting and ephemeral phantasm,
We swear eternity to one another,
As our hands stray from one another's grasp.
We awake to another day
And until sleep comes we will live in a lucid past.