A clear mind, with a racing heart,

A misty feeling tearing apart,

A soothing ache blessing a calm.

Why does it still feel like no harm?

The meaning of the meaning,

Of the meaning,

Still a meaning.

Finding a perspective that lost its beaming,

All I felt was

Unextinguished,

Breathing.

A thin thread of essence,

Unraveling and weaving.

Cushions of almost kept my hope suspended

Vague, but uninterrupted.

In spite of it all,

My pulse still hums beneath grief’s pall.