nothing i can write tonight is right, and yet nothing about it is wrong.

The cacophony of the day.

I sit, I play, I carry on this day in that way I do. In that way I carry on

with you.

I am lost to the clock and the agenda, I simply glide.

There is no expectation, no check list, no right or wrong.

There is nothing but the flow of the wind and the pattern of the sun.

The flux of life as one moment leads to another in a symphony of curiosities that are best left undefined.