The angst is biting mites today,
leaving blazing sores,
small but cumulatively painful, raging.
Yet, the promise unknown …looming.
A gift encircled in the inverted telescope?
My bones marrow in distant headlights.
A missive, visitor or opportunity,
Ah, but absorption sucks it dry,
sponged back in the dull hum lethargy.
Only a fleeting prick of moment.