Gossamer, in black redefined.

There are few things more satisfying than watching reflections bounce and glimmer off asphalt. The artificial light toying with refraction like a playful kitten. Atoms jovial, and yet motionless to human senses, on the mask of transportation.

Action bringing peace. The solace of nature's water cycle on a stage. The stage designers thoughtful of only convenience. The puddles a voice that gives goose-flesh in an otherwise uninspiring play.

It is in these moments we find ourselves, and our reasons. I should say reason, singular. For no matter the question, when one is inspired by nature, there is the absolute undefinable that exists. Existence is it's own answer, and our minds, the quandary.

Ones eyes in this exact space,
would transform differently another's face.
The energy the same, at least in theory.
And yet time is a dimension to warp.
Ascribing minds, think not alike.
The time-logged, molded and melded.
Synapse insecurity where purity fails.