Gates to somewhere
Watching as the sun does its utmost to
escape the grip of the clouds,
wondering about its diameter,
realizing the magnitude of its size.
Baffled with purple lazed awe.
Nobody’s right, when what we know,
like the ant who crawled across
lust landscapes of my imagination,
is full of illusions of our own selves.
I wake up,
spinning like a star,
that I, dressed in humor and childhood,
forget to reject,
remembering that we, being imperfect,
to reach the gates of the divine.