I dig that beat,
Is it still beating?
In what inexplicable places
Do we find ourselves?

Do you see that bit
Of what you want inside
That mirror? Can you accept
That proud beauty devoid of pain?

Lapse, the time stops,
Rewinds, constrains my mind
So that my thoughts waver...
It is to be alone and wander.

But there's that beat sometimes...
I swear it sways me to and fro
And I am dizzy all too often by
It's power. Resist this blissful recount.

I am but a sorrow wakened.
This is embers elegant and stirred.
It is only desolation.
All of this might be absurd.