Flickering lights in the distance
speak of the messages which remained unreceived.
Pertinent to a time now gone,
they instigate a feeling of what has been succeeded.
Lost in noise and tempered by the unknown,
a message like any other, helplessly deceived,
comes at the most fortunate of times,
the very moment it needs to be perceived.
Intertwined with time and not specific to one receipient,
messages have the tendency to reinstate their unreceived status.
Passage for one changes for the other,
just like the mind, context is also precarious.
Those flickering lights in the distance
tell me a story different from the one told to the last reader.
Maybe the lights will carry forward this very instance
and thus become unreceived for the very next gazer.
The Poet and the Pen 