I am confused at the point
  where a number of wingless thoughtlings converge in
a muddy rut
  I am lying on the tattered couch half-heartedly
peering through my three foot transparent lenses, vital
vehicles though which I have viewed my world today.
  It is a prolonged evening in early summer one
without end, loosely clutching every strand of
eerie white light it produces
  The dark trees are thrashing in the turbulent
gusty undulations
silhouetted against a light canvas of sky.
The illusion that overlapping foliage in the wind yields is one of
starry happenings
A premature twinkling of cosmicness in the
stark, faux-elucidation of my night.
Enlightenment for the day
          Bliss