High Above Far Below

Too Far away. Myopic thumbs overlook the subtle stages. Too close. Obtuse voices churn moments into years. I'm the tortoise. Moving slowly. As fast as I can. I'm the hare. running so fast. I can't see. Don't care. Where I'm going.

It's empty. This ledge. An endless Faustian stairway. With no place to step. Clocks that won't listen. And skies too limited.

I don't dare guess how this is where the story tells. All the minor tales that could make it whole. I don't stand on the rooftop to see closer the stars. But rather, to better see down. I don't want to fall. I just want to see.

Petitioning the monsters from within their sour. The bricks on my house eventually blow down. It's the structure. Not the materials that keep the villains out.

I'd give away all my baskets. For a wolf with sharp enough claws. The quantum mechanics of a jejune fairy tale wrongly trust the faulty algorithms of love.