tom taylor

flying blind

short fall into dark tripwires holes in the surface
all betide groping insecurity fearful and silent in
reaching forward unknown dungeon of thought
in action unretided from all that’s promised again

yet hopeless jargon commits no favors leaning
at the broken door unhinged into the small glimpse
into the other side of order unmapped territories
full of the odds against repeat or return to this

in the clear details encountered the first time ever
by no man known to you or me still the data flows
and comes aboard to become warm and welcome
in the filling light the day provides all explorers