Wayward Visions

A veil of sheer repose
glimmers deep
within your
starry-eyed
soul.

Gazing yet chasing,
lunar illusions,
the sound of
distant thunder
allures a moon
away.

Lying here,
partly grounded,
a pair of fingers
pinpoint
Polaris,
connecting the corners
of all creation.

Allowing the
light to
draw us closer
than before,
you lose strength
in our magnetic field,
we think of nothing but mindless matter.

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