the clock ticks in whispers
like a secret sharing its breath
in the margins of reality
on the edge of the dream
thoughts meander like streams,
cutting through the landscape of the mind—
each word a pebble,
each sentence a ripple
in the vast pond of consciousness
do you see the elephant in the room?
no, because it wasn't drawn right—
sketched half-heartedly
in a hurry, between meetings
and cups of coffee that grew cold
ignored, like yesterday's news
echo
moments
whispers