Intrigue

The terror and promise of tomorrow
live each day contentiously together,
inseparably blended light and dark,
the dappled dream of our breeze-worked waking

the diction of mix is contradiction,
mind pulls apart to put things together,
in the gathering with and in the other
is the space of actual inner presence

time's the rub that exacerbates the sense
of passing, the weave of untamable 
evanescence that gives rise to the song
of impossible now, possible just now

I can have trouble following myself,
but words are tracks that lead to me from me