ambience

irrelevant trivialities,

as all eyes on a distant sky,

with sighs as summaries, 

yet not directly spoken about.

there are dry riverbeds, 

that are winking back,

as compositions 

that reek of the overwhelm of technique

and overbearances, 

that fumes with directed-ness.

we are all

but pregnant moments 

of unsaidness bearing down,

with witless impendings, 

closing in.

this is apprehension's silent approach,

the way feel speaks, 

without the use of spoken words.

it is how clouds unquestionably form,

how a moment of attention, 

somehow passes,

in the aura of cognitive doubt,

yet, by casting no shadows.

so what was I thinking,

as if ambience is, 

just a lip read away? . . .