Greylit sky starburst center
and it formed a ring, concentric
circles of cloud and black and grey-white light,
as we formed a ring, concentric
circles of brush and clear, wet ground and stone
and us, concentric circles of smoke
and half-baked emotions and our own
brand of over-baked philosophies
on thought? And how? And why?
The artificial light never looked so real,
and it lent us some of its genuine,
and it lent us some of its ray,
but not enough to feel the contours of a nose,
and we lent it some of our shape,
our concrete form it lacked and longed for,
and we stared at the shadows for a while.