A defenseless luster lies upon
this endless-seeming surface.
All-in-all and out-of-place
but for a moment. Then, suddenly, gone.
Studious, you divide
your breathing into careful portions
as impeccable visual distortions
take your tired gaze for a ride.
The abstract fingers of the hour
(their touch so soft you go insane)
peel away the layers of your brain
like the petals of a brittle flower
and Thought steadily disintegrates
as Perception’s surly storm abates.