The Drawing Parable

Every second, each sentence passing
through the clouds, draws magnetically
and splits, spills humanly into deep
dark amnesia. Again, It's heaven
dividing itself unconsciously
Do I still exist, even now? Only
Back to black no questions asked,
chaotic spiral spinning no turning
back. Felt moments, true laughter
breaking into shaking pieces of sun
transmitting symbols, the human
aspect: probably one of the darker
shades. Draw the curtains, believe
that ricocheting light has something
well worth remembering: Which part
aren't you?