There is no overcoming you,
your reason remains,
there’s nowhere to retreat to,
where your influence has not stained.
We gravitate towards opposing ends of the spectrum,
the rural for the organized chaos of the city,
the urban to the distant in search of calmness to overcome.
The human soul remains restless in its natural state of rest,
for all is relative and what is common soon becomes a pest,
fleeing is a solitary option but also our best.
In the watercolour fields I stood,
aged camera sensor in hand,
in those moments I surrendered and understood,
that my presence faded in such a land.
For all resolve for influence melted,
just happy to be present and hallowed,
your incursions weakened and welted,
as this suspended time remained borrowed.
As my mind eventually withers,
it is these moments I wish to endure,
not snapshots which alone haunt and dither,
as all beauty retreats and nightmares obscure.
