I didn’t know it was fickle. I wasn’t seeking temporal;
I guess it was never truly forged with fire.
Overlapped stories, disconnected truths,
It’s easy to fall confused by unaccounted time.
And I ask myself – If lured blindly,
How does one know they’re surrounded by land mines?
I often trace back my steps but the laments become vapor.
Writers Note: I was just going with the flow here but it kind of became a prompt and I just stuck with it.
Image by: Sebastian Seck
