Closed eyes disguise parenthetical thoughts of what remains at the end of long roads.
All I can see is the darkness, inside eyelids.
I can almost see Mind drowning in fallen water.
Its smell permeates the air mixing with cedar trees,
half dead, alone, in a field far away.
Darkness illuminates my subtle surrounding and
I dig deep in the pavement to feel where it comes from.
But it’s useless to hope.
Nothing can be more clear than the infinite of those precious eyelids.