Fragile pieces,
time drifts,
piecemeal randomness.
Holding tightly,
thoughts abound.
Organized chaos in a thimble of hope.
Babbling unconscious words,
wanting to let go.
If I can’t hold the moment,
then maybe I can shake the emotion,
and drift beyond;
where time doesn’t define,
and dreams hold reign,
in the realm of shadow and fog,
before the morning light,
reveals too much of the same.