Cars moving in disorder,
something like the chaos in my head
but in harmony with the leaves
of branches hanging in dismay.
To seek more beauty,
I look up towards the dark horizon.
The grey clouds and the frightened birds,
shrilling across the skyline.
I’m so happy to see the world like it is,
that I would cry tears of joy.
Except I couldn’t,
and I shamed in the inability.
So nature took pity
and covered my face with tears from the sky,
soaking everything to deceive the imaginary
and explicate the real.
The branches stopped and went to sleep,
so the people had to leave too.
But I didn’t, because I was not a dancer.
Only an observer.
I felt happy, in that moment of stillness,
until stillness felt torturous.
And I turned towards my car,
longing to seek confusion anew.