a prediction after losing time back:

once the gulf between erratic skies and midnight blue oceans passes,

there may be no further exposure to the BrightWind of Song,

as everylastthing carries on without whisper,

beyond protest.

then oblong eternities may hop aboard this perfect CloudOcean of anywhere,

wending through the flawless expanding stillness,

and once there,

growers of knowledge may visit the fruits and branches of some glory tree

situated outside those previous archaic visions,

where the candles they have borne freely melt the darkness away

revealing another circus of onlookers,

affirming those worn inventors of Platonic shadows,

abandoning those unconscious dreamers left to ponder unreasonable decisions,

now frozen,

safely grounded, fully rested, nearly accomplished.

and it is here, somewhere within this impasse, this prediction amplifies,

momentous yet anonymous,

beckoning those of us who have had enough of practical puzzles

to pack it all in.

and it is then after toasting the oncoming vastness of new possibilities,

we rebels of the status quo

may now disentangle ourselves from that state of constant saturated stagnation,

for this unfurling may be the only humble choice remaining

before skins get swapped

and static positions restored,

orchestrated by straight ties and straighter minds,

signifying only up

or down.