Clarity

on a cliff edge,
a dreamy lens comes into focus,
a reflection on each memory of your name,
what we could have been,
if I had the brevity of claim
and stayed within the realms of fortitude,
against the raging plague,
nothing makes sense anymore,
this rogue soul, ground zero patrol,
lost to existence amidst fortuitous scrolls,
slipping through cracks, spinning in the wind,
every quiet whim dims every bit of digital film,
every disquieted word stacked in precocious attack,
when love was a simple pat on the back,
purple to black, cause for rapture,
consequential implode,
fluctuating ruptures in what was meant to be,
twenty four carat gold.