Clueless

Cluelessly, I wonder
how my mind can wander,
secure in senseless dreams
and it's foolish blunders.

What is this noiseless place,
and why does the Air stalk me
with it's clear and unpleasant Grace?
Will the Air always agree with me?

Do I dare to dream of
parallel perceptions, and
forget the sweet cream
of my delusional expressions?

Shall I paint an invisible
"A" on my forehead to
advertise my Airy apathy
and emerge empty instead?

My mercurial friend,
let's shout at the wind!
Blast holes through it,
and foolishly spit!

Not sure? Then lets
calmly surrender,
and watch this high
existence slip past nigh.

Satisfied and alone,
we can watch the Air
while it cleanses us and
hurriedly flashes by...

Copyright (C) 2012 by Michael G. Hesley
All Rights Reserved