Futile Swearing

You chase it in spaced out seconds after your favorite songs because the lyrics left you reeling. Traces of enlightenment in every stranger, flecks of gold in your field, the light between two eyes in passing. There was the thought, yours but only loaned out. There was the stunned space, and a long forgetting. There you are in weeks, afloat in the same rooms reciting prayers in the same melody and flipping switches on the off-white walls with your fingers crossed. You seek the same lighting and a trance, futile swears to something from hot breath frustration. Maybe it never happened. Maybe you should light a candle, the flame glow and the plants shadow thrown to the wall haven’t been tried. Maybe the state of questioning is the only soundtrack you know.