Slipping Through the Fingers of Night

Reconciled with potentials of sly wit, a
Diminutive diet of intent, burgeoning undersea.

Our recurrent ability, a mysterious memory.
Still angling for the crippling kick.

Kung-fu-fighting quite pithily summed
With a tang of illusory nature.

The key for us–gravity is operational,
As little hops of waking awareness sometimes, know.

We’re suddenly weightless on the border of two worlds.

A spray of leaves clutched against
The other hemisphere of sham and suction.

In an electric breeze of wonder,
A phantom conclusion protrudes.

Gleaming out of the shadows,
Rehashing wisdom in two places at once.

On the other side–

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