Obscurity

A poem about second glances.

By Pixabay via Pexels

There is poetry
From letting go

In the way words
Turn to
Cinders at the
edges

Or how
treading vibrancy
Means looking back
To memories all grown up
On their own

Pushing against
The stern of old musings
Watching their bow dip
Into obscurity

Is it better
Not to know the infinite folly?
Is it better
To have witnessed the undreamt dream?