The Watchers of the Yonder (I)

That glow you find beyond sleep nostalgic,

sold with prairies of the tamed wild borne honorific,

crowned unique in a halo of swirls beatific,

pillowed emotion and surreal, a yen in lyric.

Blithely they appear with balloons for penance,

offering nothing but malediction in deliverance,

in demeanour of a resounding shallow reticence,

Sundry, their voices driven from an escaped chance.

'Here', they call, 'cross your slights,with slight awareness',

Armoured with claims of distance, you weigh less,

While your thoughts have pattered as lifelines, impervious.

Contoured with mirrors, in plain sight and witless,

arduously following the pretty, in coyness,

It's cool and calm, yet, you wager with meekness ,

for what is the world which is yours regardless?