— Inspired by the poem "Beyond the Pane" by Greg Hewett
Infrequent gazes of heavy boughs descend
into, beneath glances of suddenly sprung oblivion;
we are unknown to ourselves,
beyond comprehension and greed.
Is tomorrow an open promise
or an inevitable threat?
One never knows
where solace may be found,
when music could erupt from a throat once closed
from night's insincere embrace.
Wildflowers gather slowly, gently cloistered by dew;
we bend and shift positions, trying to align
all the dying stars within our eyes.
A porcelain bowl gleams at daybreak,
waiting, perhaps wanting, to be filled
with either sustenance