Amnesia

My awareness buried under boulders

pinches me with uneasiness

I am not able to hold the might that could lift them

A bizarre comfort

Small impressions of aching nostalgia

for the twisting strands of blue

or the lips of Lakeview

though soon distracted by ephemeral light

through aperture and lens, exposed to the soul

At least for a time,

I will enjoy this sweet naivety

It is my own fault to encounter this again

when I climbed up the mast

with my bronze peeking glass

to see the silhouette of the chitin node

awaiting flaking leaves to flourish then shatter

At least for a time,

I will enjoy this familiar novelty