As I sit here waiting
For a glimpse of momentary inspiration,
I can't help but wonder if
My substantiality is purely the creation
Of my own thoughts.
My mind is cluttered with images of beauty
That transcend the peak of Everest
And the distance between galaxies,
And it is deafened by sound so great
That reality cannot quantify its essence.
Yet silence has never been so loud that
No words can describe the vastlessness
Created in the scope of my imagination,
And equally, no story can put in words
The complexity and eternity brought into my existence
By my very own cognition.
So I am trapped -
Trapped somewhere between
The unknown emptiness between two stars
And the intangible theory of infinity
That overlooks the everlasting, yet impermanent, meadow
In which I lay,
Waiting for my sip of volatile elegance.
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