Vanishing Point

I mistaken the vanishing point for the vintage point

When dreams become dreary and dreary too

I opened you like an open book

And rewind what has to be unwind

Dust particles in the wind the same way

Round and round by the rounded plane

As if love and death dies in the same way

We shall return to it soon and promptly

Like staccato in a magazine

And all our quarrels are lovely

And rendered with silver film

We behold to believe

Too much beheld to believe

Yet we still do

You do too

September 2025

By Aran Meredith