Brilliance

Love exists
before and after
this moment.

The sands of time in our glass count eternity.
Infinitely counting Time
Time to tell the truth.

We spin a spell, weave a yarn
And these threads create our web of belief.
We are devoured by a web of our own making.

What wicked webs we weave.
But only when we think that we’re the weaver
Our actions spiral out into Pi
Easy to abstract, hard to divine

I catch myself dancing on the twin blade
Of pride at my own brilliance
And humiliation that I cannot be brilliant at will.

But the brilliance escapes me none the less.