I see us
On the scooter
Isolated in space
But time
Isn’t the right time
The right kind of time
While the vision itself
Is indistinct

Blurred

Which leaves me

Confused

Nothing’s quite adding up
Or going anywhere
That could be a destination
Or even a place to stop
And rest

I need to rest

Let go
And gather in

Paradoxes

Or is that ironies

The scooter drives on
Into the night
Carrying some sort
Of hopeful

Light

Illuminating nothing

No

Illuminating
Streaks of formless
Something

Something formless
Meant to have form
Intending to form

Therein
I know where the hope
In the light
Leads

The right kind of time

Even if I
Have no idea where
Or when
Such time will be

Or was