Such as in Late July

Morning has never been sure of itself,
never finally, such as along the way
in sporadic pockets, some voices that speak,
as on a typical day while sun rises back
up behind my shoulder. Though,
I look more at sunsets, and slow.
Every day they dissolve everything
linked to the calamitous. Ultimate
end, ideals applicable only when slightly
misunderstood, as with the in between,
here in presence, and all sorts of breezes
along with the hallways, open windows,
varied pressure systems with turbines of raw energy
I don’t always want directed but inferred
to somehow decide to enjoy about
in daylight with, at most, an illusive adventure
rather than a kingdom. The array of options.
They can inflict much self importance.
Consider when lucky randomly unintended
regular life can show you a toad,
let you revive your stubbed toe,
hold your hand, and then let you go
proceeding outward as always shading
manifolds that make yesterday different from today
while also from the same blank pallet of sun,
something simple enough. This time. A place.
I might agree, there is no road, maybe some
circular traveling and tints of mirage,
clouds keeping the insistent dissolute,
and how pleasant to watch on the ground
from the center of the broad blue circle horizon.

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