The Point

About your past.
About your future,
You cannot ask.
Pixels composing
What is real.
Words inside,
You cannot feel.
Hiding beneath
Transparent places.
If only those
Familiar faces.
Weren’t standing there,
So in the way.
Of a brighter, better,
More beautiful Today.
To see here, now,
All that is good
To finally,
Be understood.
You are not what meets the eye.
But colors flashed before we die.
The cirlcle goes on;
It never ends.
But what’s between
Beginings, Friend?
Divulging prisms
Of greater Truth.
You’ll lose your youth. 
But let’s be coy,
And not so couth.
You’ll think of me
When the point is moot.

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