Cherished ends are far beyond.
My plotted means don’t correspond.
Could means be ends of themselves?
Despite the way I am compelled?
Denying ends to feel more strong.
Is that the path where I belong?
Is it an end to feel belonging?
Or more means for ends prolonging?
Thoughts are hitting like a breeze,
And quickly pass with silky ease.
Is it hope that draws it near?
Or is it pain, is it fear?
You mean for means to be your end,
Against the herd, against the trend.
Stacking blocks in empty corners.
Humble outlaw, silent reformer.
A mindless, trivial crusade.
But over time look what you’ve made.
A fluid turn, a fleeting glance,
A doorway to a new expanse.
Speaking naught, for you build.
But by these acts, I am fulfilled.
The needs of some, the end of my?
The fictions of you, we and I.
How over what, now and forever.
How over why not now, not ever.
© 2020 TheRememberings Ltd.