At crossroads
As a persistent state
This is the way I’d define the present
Which, ironically, refuses to be labeled
It does not need to have a name; it will still be the present
Regardless of how we call it
The smallest of all thoughts seems to have already occurred to me before
The biggest of all ideas coming back in different shapes
Postponing choices, wandering, observing, taking it all in
I treasure my words and struggle to let them come out
They can mutate realities
Or commit to actions that aren’t ready to exist
Honesty to be found even clearer in those that stay inside
This inexplicable need to free up some space inside
To connect and find a link in these mixed paths
My dreams have become a story that keeps building up each night
And you appear in each one
At crossroads
As a persistent state.
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