resting on a bed of feathers,
riding the beam, saving time
and distance,
in the meanwhile, innocent bystanders
watch the heavy display of unsorted
egos, waiting to fall in line with
one of the unsuspescting souls.
they perform a dance of discretion
and irony,
in a way laughing,
in a way weeping,
in a way... away.
gone too a far and dreamy play,
having a secret long gone and distorted,
on the way becomes a fantasy.