Impeccable joy like insurmountable sorrow
Bow down to one, worry about the other
How in the world is it possible
To be so high or so low without altering reality?
If all that I perceive is through the lens of my mind
If all that I feel is through the tap of feelings
Feelings burrowed deep inside begging for words
Only felt in broken smiles and suppressed tears
Feelings in search of words
Feelings that can only be smelled
In the muddy slush created by a rapid downpour
Or touched in the moistness of a cheek or muddiness of vision
The world remains intact, out of order
What is the purpose of those feelings?
If they mean nothing or everything in one instance
Only conjoined in an incomprehensible paradox
Conflicting with its own existence
In the middle of crowd, lonely as a midnight street
Or alone as a night-guard, but beaming with joy
Suspended in time as an unfinished thought
A life lived a quarter at a time
Wondering if it were to complete
How rich or devastating the experience
For completion, all footsteps must trot
Meaningless words, wordless feelings
Only for the senses, invisible to the world
The sheer reality shredded of its meaning
Only painted by the undefined feelings
