Saturday sans Sun

But it's only 6:30 in the AM, so that'll change soon enough.

Apocrypha

less absent than common sense
apocrypha on the lips
tips of tongues and spewing
regularly imbuing small lives
with larger self impressions

holding court in absentia
delayed gratification becomes anathema
when what one wants
is only never to be thought the other
apocrypha lends credence to one's claims

echoing elements of others' tallest tales
longing (though of course not showing it)
for the admiration of one's own
an acknowledgment that one is all alone
and still steadfast denial, rebuttal of the same

in subtle ironies missed too often
still plays, whole scenes, brief captions
formulating plans for local domination
of the world which is not everything
except for all that matters anyhow

apocrypha elucidates the simplest
clearest sign of life, la joie de vive
too powerful to bear aught but a wink
a nod
a shrug of the shoulders as the moment passes
eternal
ephemeral
esoteric and surreal but

all too common in our own and only world


Have a beauty day, eh.