Dreaming of brightness–
in parallel lines we walk silent,
our unshadowed bodies
like paper cutouts against the night sky.
In parallel lines we walk silent–
there are truths, but we prefer to bend them.
Like paper cutouts against the night sky,
we can no longer define our direction.
There are truths, but we prefer to bend them
and let them grow unattended.
We can no longer define our direction
or what we mean when we say the word “why?”
Our unshadowed bodies
stand still as the world spins onward–
we do not know where or how, but we are
dreaming of brightness.
Another pantoum, with some fan shaped paper I found online. Another aspect of the circle.